Please Don't Stop the Rain
by lightblue-Nymphadora
Summary: Harry tries to make sense of his life a year after the war. Rated for language. Will eventually be Harry/Tonks
1. A Failed Proposal

**Please Don't Stop the Rain**

Harry rolled off the couch, the smell of burnt toast filling his nose. "Wha—George?" He coughed for a moment, trying to will himself awake. "George…" It was no use—he was still too drunk to function.

"Easy mate," George said, walking in with a plate. "Toast?"

Harry retched. "No—I'm good. What the hell?"

"You came back and got plastered after dinner. You…er… remember what happened?"

"Ginny said no. And we…argued."

"Putting it lightly."

"I need to talk to her."

"Not like this, you don't," George said, helping him back onto the couch. "Assuming she could get past the smell of Firewhiskey, I doubt you'd be coherent enough to make a strong case."

Harry nodded. Even in his hungover state, he could appreciate the wisdom in George's words. He took a sip of water just as an owl flew through the window. It was from Ginny.

"I'll give you some privacy," George said. "If you need me, I'll be in the library."

"Thanks, George," Harry said, opening the note. With a deep breath, he read:

_Harry,_

_I know you probably hate me right now. I don't blame you. I wish it had been different—I wish you'd asked me in private. As it is, you didn't. I need you to understand why I can't marry you. You asked me last night for one good reason for my 'No'. I'll do better than that—I'll give you seven._

_First, you know bloody well we don't fit together. You need someone who you'll be able to relax with—someone you match. You need someone you can fight with and not come out of it wanting to kill them. _

_Second, you're my mother's son, and you know it. If you hadn't needed the Dursley's to stay alive and off the Death Eaters' radar, my parents would've adopted you. This would be a little too incestuous for my tastes._

_Third, I need to be able to not worry. __I know you, and just because Voldemort's gone doesn't mean you're going to stop being you. You're going to be an Auror, and do great things. But after this war, I need to know that my husband is going to come home every day, and in one piece. I know that's selfish, but it's what I need._

_Fourth, I'm not an eleven year old anymore. I'm not in love with you._

_Fifth, you're not in love with you anymore. You have scars from this war that you need to deal with before you can be comfortable with yourself, and comfortable with someone else. _

_Sixth, I've found someone else. Someone who's right for me._

_Seventh, and this is the most important, I need to be needed and loved for who I am. I don't want to be the logical next step in your life. That's not fair. _

_I'm sorry if you think this is selfish. Maybe it is. But I can't bond myself to you for the rest of my life, and not think of my life as part of the equation. I hope one day you'll be able to forgive me._

_~Ginny_

Harry placed the letter on the table, shaking slightly. He grabbed a pen and some parchment from his desk and wrote two words….

_**I understand.**_

* * *

Harry walked into the Ministry, hell bent on getting a job. ANYTHING to take his mind off the previous weekend. "Good morning," he said to the receptionist. "Harry Potter, here to see Minister Shaklebolt."

"Indeed," the tiny wizard said. "He's expecting you. Go on up."

Ascending the stairs, Harry felt his nerves dissipate. He'd already talked to Kingsley about what he wanted to do. This would just make it official. "Kingsley," he said, smiling.

"Morning, Harry," Kingsley said. "Please, sit down."

After he'd taken a seat, Harry said, "You know what I want to do."

"And the entire Auror department will be happy to have you. I have a proposal for you. For the first few months, you'll be out of the field. You'll work on training new recruits, and looking at our system—the better to redesign it. When you're sure you can handle it, we'll put you back in the field. What say you?"

"Sounds fantastic, Kingsley," Harry said, smiling for the first time since The Letter.

"Then, I suggest we take a tour of your new home."


	2. An Appointment

**Please Don't Stop the Rain**

The coat was about a size and a half too big for him. He'd bought it because of the buttons. Harry had his hands balled into nervous fists in the pockets of it, one hand crushing a slip of parchment. He couldn't believe he was doing this…. Well, that was a lie—he could definitely believe it. Still, that didn't make his nerves any better. If he was going to get over his…_scars_, as Ginny had named them, he had to swallow his pride. And his fear. With a steadying breath, he walked into the office building.

It was cozy inside. Someone had known to make the waiting room as comfortable as possible, in order to ease the patients' minds. There was a witch at the front desk. She gave him a smile and a nod as he approached. "Afternoon, Mr. Potter," she said.

"Er…hello. I…uh…" he broke off with a nervous chuckle. "Sorry. First time."

"Not to worry, sir," she said. She poured him a cup of water from the cooler next to her desk and handed it to him. "I'd be more worried if you weren't nervous. This can be a little much. In any case, it's going to be fine. Have a seat and relax. Professor Zabini will be with you in a moment."

"Thank you," he said.

Professor Blaise Ion Zabini, the name plaque read. The tall black man walked from behind his desk and showed Harry into a seat. "Care for a stress toy?" he asked, indicating the large collection of miniature plushies on a shelf. "The first session can be a bit intimidating."

"Er…I'll take the dragon, I suppose."

Blaise tossed it to him, and sat in the chair across from him. "Right then. We need to do one thing, before we get started. I need to ask you a question, and you have to answer me honestly. Otherwise, I won't be able to help you."

"Okay."

"Why did you come to me, specifically?" Blaise asked. He smiled when he saw Harry's uncomfortable look. "No need to try and be chivalrous—I know I helped make your life hell during school. So why come to me for help? What can I give you?"

Harry paused for a long moment. Finally, he said, "You did help make my life hell. That's why, when I got your name, I knew you'd be the best for me. Other people…other people coddle me, and I'm tired of it. You may have been a git during school," he said with a smirk, "but I think we've all moved beyond that. I think I can trust you to at least give it to me straight if I'm mental."

Blaise laughed. "That you can. So…what's on your mind?"

Harry handed him Ginny's letter, and waited while he read it. "I think she's right," he said finally. "About me not loving myself, and about her being the next logical step in my life. It's not that…I guess I just always knew where I was going, you know? I had a purpose—something I was made for and had to accomplish. And in the moments where I did imagine making it out of Voldemort's clutches alive…sorry," he said, seeing Blaise flinch at the name.

"It's fine. Continue, please," Blaise said.

"When I imagined surviving the war…I always saw myself with Ginny. I never even thought about us not making it as a couple, or ending up with someone else. She was the next logical step. And that's not fair to her…. I just…don't know what to do anymore."

"You've just gotten a job as an Auror, is that true?"

"Yes. And I'm excited for it. It's just that…I don't even know. I feel…empty."

Blaise didn't say anything at first—just jotted down a few notes. Finally, he looked back at Harry. "This next question is going to seem completely off topic, fair warning…."

Harry laughed. "Have at it."

"When was the last time you played Quidditch? Or…went swimming? Or went to an art museum?"

"Er…well, I haven't been to an art museum since my teacher forced me to in third grade. Haven't been swimming since fourth year during the Triwizard Tournament. And I haven't played Quidditch since sixth year. Why?"

"We'll get to the deep stuff later," Blaise told him, setting his notepad down. "First off, you need to have some fun. Like you said, you've always had a purpose. That purpose was way too much for a child to carry. You need to find things to do—a way to free yourself. I feel like that could be a good, solid, first step for you."

Harry nodded. "What do you suggest?"

"You're rich—you can pick up whatever insane hobbies you want. Just make sure they're legal," he added with a smirk.

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry said, setting his dragon back on the table.

* * *

"How have you slept this past year?" Blaise asked. "Sound sleep? Nightmares?"

"No…well, a few, but not frequently. Most of the time I'll have a drink and fall right off. But…."

"But what?"

"When I dream… it… it feels like there's someone else there with me. It's kind of an out of body experience. Like there are two Harry's watching my life."

"Which Harry do you feel more connected to?"

"The other one," Harry said, chuckling. "He's less harsh with my life…gives a bit more grace. I don't really want to talk about my dreams though."

Blaise just nodded. "It's been a week since you last saw me. Any hobbies yet?"

"I've started a broom collection. Sounds a bit snobbish, but I like brooms. And it put me in touch with an old friend—Seamus Finnigan."

"That's good! I know Seamus. Gryffindor tendencies notwithstanding, he's a good man. Sold me my Aquarius."

"You have an Aquarius broom?" Harry yelped. He'd stopped himself from buying one. They were ridiculously good brooms, and the price showed it.

"My wife has an Aquarius broom, actually," Blaise chuckled. "She's a Quidditch fan too."

"I didn't know you were married."

"Heather Cadwallader. She was a Hufflepuff. Started at Hogwarts the year after us. Are you enjoying work?"

Harry nodded. "Loving it. I really like training, surprisingly."

"Why surprisingly? Weren't you the head of…er…what was it? Dumbledore's Army?"

"Yes. I was strong-armed into it. But I guess, when I think about it, I liked it well enough."

The timer rang.

"That's time," Harry said. "See you next week."

* * *

Harry threw his cloak on the side on the side of the couch and fell back onto it. He jumped back up when he felt something crinkle underneath him. He picked up the letters that had been dropped there. Opening the first one, he read George's neat print:

**Harry, **

**Had to nip out to check on the store. Apparently some of the prototypes burst into flames when Lee was working on them. I'm going to dinner with Angelina tonight. Don't wait up. **

**George**

He put it on the table and picked up another one. This was from Tonks.

_**Wotcher Harry!**_

_**I'll be out on a mission until Saturday. Cheers!**_

_**~NT**_

Harry's stomach sank. Tonks was the one of the only trainers who still worked in the field occasionally. He hated it when she was gone. If you had told him before that Tonks could put the fear of God into a group of rowdy 17 to 20 year olds, he wouldn't have believed it. But training did go a lot smoother when she was there. He sighed and put the note down. The last one was from Ron and Hermione. It didn't have a note, other than a quick "_We miss you!_" But pictures, a map and postcards fell out of the envelope. He smiled and put his feet up, beginning to look through the pictures.


	3. An Insider

**Please Don't Stop the Rain**

Harry had quickly realized that it would be impossible to collect brooms and stay occupied. Buying a broom once a month would land him on the streets quicker than a hippogriff's temper. He therefore set about renovating the last room of the house into a Quidditch parlor. He painted the walls a deep red, and hung hooks for the brooms. He put his collector's edition Nimbus 2000 and his Firebolt on the wall near the window. He hoped to cover the walls one day…

George wandered in as he was working on a hanging Quidditch model. "Looks nice mate," he said, inspecting some of the framed articles. "Glad to see my Dublin Destroyers represented. Don't you have some kind of party to get to?"

"Bollocks!" Harry yelped, looking at his watch. "Thanks George."

"Don't mention it."

* * *

It was some sort of Ministry benefit for St. Mungo's. One with dress robes, snooty faces, and an open bar. Even if he hadn't worked for the Auror department, Harry would've been expected to go. When you the savior of the Wizarding World and filthy rich, people expected it of you. He wandered around, making small talk with the heads of different departments. Finally, when the band took the stage, he was able to break away from the crowd. As he watched the dancing, he felt a breath on his ear.

"No fun in being a wallflower," a familiar voice said.

"Tonks!" Harry yelped, blushing.

"Did I catch you in the middle of a deep fantasy?" she asked, grinning. "Tell me it wasn't about Tavington's wife…."

They looked out onto the dance floor, where the portly woman was somehow crushing at least three people's feet, and flirting with everyone except her sour-faced husband.

Harry smiled. "No. Not this time. What are you doing here? I thought you weren't due back for another three days."

"Mission was compromised," Tonks told him, taking a sip of her drink. "We had to retreat, then we got recalled so the bastards wouldn't recognize us."

"Tough luck."

"It's whatever," she said, shrugging. "So long as we catch them, I'm not fussed about who gets the credit. Want one?" she asked, catching Harry eyeing her drink.

"What is it?"

"A Manhattan. They make a decent one here. I'll go get one for you."

"You don't have to—I can get it."

"No you can't. You may be Harry Potter, but they still know you're only nineteen. They'll count on you not knowing your way round a drink and they'll either get you tossed on the first, or they'll rip you off. Be right back."

Harry found a table while he waited. "Thanks," he said when Tonks made it over to him. "That was quick."

"I know the bartender. So…how's the people watching coming?"

"Sorry?" Harry asked, taking a sip of the drink. It wasn't bad.

"People watching. For us, it's particularly interesting."

"Why's that?"

Tonks smiled and scooted closer to Harry. "I forgot…you were allowed to skip Auror training…all that Voldemort killing and whatnot. Anyway, there's something you learn very quickly in training. In any situation, there are two sorts of people: outsiders and insiders. At any given moment in life, it's likely that you're slumming it as an outsider. Things like this," she indicated the room around her. "We're actually insiders."

"How do you figure that?" Harry asked, smiling. "I just joined."

"But you get all the good information," Tonks said. "You're Harry Potter, after all. And an Auror. People trust you." She nodded to where a couple, both dressed in bright purple, was dancing. "The Grimmisches. She's about to become head of the Department of Community Organization."

"Which makes the glares she's getting from Mr. Puckett more understandable."

"Exactly. It feels gossipy at first, but it's helpful in knowing whom to avoid…." Tonks mused.

"Do you play keep away frequently?"

"All the time. It might have something to do with the clumsiness, but most of the people who know me here still treat me like a child. It's vexing. Especially when they're always in pissing contests with each other. Sometimes it's best just to do your job and keep your head down. And your eyes open."

Harry laughed at this. "So…one big happy family, eh?"

"Exactly."

The band began to play a slower number. Harry finished his drink and stood up. "Dance with me?" he asked. He had no idea why he'd offered—he wasn't even that good of a dancer.

"I'd kill you," Tonks said seriously.

Laughing, Harry shook his head. "You can't be any worse than me…."

"Bet?"

* * *

"Who do you hang round with?" Blaise asked. "I know Ron and Hermione were your best mates."

"Still are," Harry said. "They're just…unavailable at the moment."

"Honeymoon?"

"You could call it that. Hermione went to find her parents right after the war ended—long story. She and Ron decided to travel with them, after they found them. They've been gone for most of the year."

"You seem…upset."

"No…Just wish they were here. I think…." He looked up at Blaise and took a breath. It was one thing he hadn't wanted to ever admit to himself. "I think they wanted to be away from England for the aftermath. And I don't blame them. I think of them as my best friends, but too many others call them my sidekicks. I don't really hang round with anyone, except George—Ron's brother. And even he's not around much…."

"Well…that's your homework then. You need to forge some human contact. I know that's probably the last thing you want to do… but you need to. You need to be around people—and work doesn't count."

"Right…." Harry muttered.

"We still have fifteen minutes," Blaise said. "Is there anything else on your mind?"

"One thing," Harry said. He told the former Slytherin of his conversation about "insiders" and "outsiders". "I've spent so long feeling like an outsider, I'm not quite sure how to deal with the other... Is that odd?"

"No, considering your circumstances. I think once you start to live your life for yourself—rather than for the rest of the world, or your mission—you'll be more comfortable with the feeling of belonging. That's what this is, Harry," Blaise explained. "I think that's what your friend was trying to tell you—that you're a part of a group now."

Harry nodded. "I'd like to go now."

"Feel free. Leave Master Grumbles on the shelf, if you will."

Harry looked down at his nail-marked dragon. "Is that his name?"

"Long story…."

With a laugh, Harry replaced the toy and waved bye to Blaise.

* * *

"Oi, Tonks, I've got those letters of recommend—Jesus!" he yelped, ducking. He'd barely dodged a dart thrown by the metamorphmagus.

"Sorry, mate," she said, taking her feet off her desk. "Playing mug shot darts."

Harry looked to his right and saw the dartboard Tonks had been aiming at. There were three snapshots of the dark wizards her team had just rounded up. "Brilliant," he said. "Can't do that to the real ones, I suppose."

"Not if I want to keep my job. Letters?"

"Er…yeah." He lost his train of thought for a moment, then fumbled for the letters. "Collins, Mumford, and Brantley."

"Thick as trolls, the lot of them," she said. "Did they even pass their tests?"

"They're retaking them now."

"Bloody hell…. Fine." She took the letters and put them on top of her training book. "Are you leaving for the day?"

"Yeah. Going to see my goddaughter."

"Have a good weekend."

"You too," he said. He paused for a moment, trying to think of something else to say. Finally, he waved and left her office. What the hell was wrong with him?


	4. A Vacation

**Please Don't Stop the Rain**

Harry always Apparated to the same spot when he visited Shell Cottage. He knelt down next to Dobby's grave and conjured a wreath of lilies. Smiling slightly, he walked the path to Bill and Fleur's house. He loved it here—where he could smell the flowers and plants, and hear the bees buzzing. He loved sitting and watching the waves. When he got to the small cottage, Bill was in the yard tossing a Frisbee to their dog. "I see Patroclus has made a full recovery," he said with a grin.

"Yes, well… Now I know better than to leave him in the house when I've just bought fireworks. Good to see you again, Harry," he said, shaking Harry's hand.

"You too. Where are Fleur and the baby?"

"Inside. Fleur's making dinner. Come on in, she'll be happy to see you."

The jingle of wind chimes came in as they walked into the kitchen. Fleur smiled brightly as they walked in. "I see you've found a friend, Bill."

"You know my habit of inviting random people in for dinner," Bill quipped.

"Oh, be quiet, Bill," she said, laughing and hugging Harry. "How are you?"

"Brilliant," he said. He was surprised to find that he meant it. A small breeze came through the window, ruffling his hair as he spotted his goddaughter. "There's the little princess." He picked her up as Bill began to help Fleur with dinner. "How is it? Having a baby around?"

"Noisy," both of them said.

Harry laughed. "She seems quiet now?"

"Now…. But she cries at everything. Don't you, Victoire?" Fleur asked, just as the baby began to fuss. She wiped her hands on a towel and handed a bottle to Harry. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all. We'll be on the porch." He exited through the screen door and settled onto the swinging bench. He chuckled—no one would believe this. He wondered how much a photographer could make off a picture of him, calmly feeding a baby in the summer breeze. Shaking his head, he put it out of his mind. Blaise had told him (about a million times) to stop thinking of himself as a public figure. He was enjoying himself. He would enjoy himself this weekend.

* * *

"Caught one!" Bill said excitedly.

Harry, who'd been dozing off, opened one eye. He shifted into a sitting position, checking his own line. "Haven't got anything yet. Let's see yours."

"I'll show you once I've reeled the damn thing," Bill grunted, struggling. Finally, he huffed and took out his wand. "_Accio_!" The line popped out of the water, and a fish flew into Bill's basket.

"Cheater," Harry said, smirking.

"Yes," Bill agreed with a grin. "But you heard Fleur. She wants fish for dinner. So we have to hop to it, mate."

Harry laughed and pulled his hat lower. "What will you be doing for Gringotts now?" he asked. "Fleur said something about a transfer."

"Yes," Bill said, casting his line again. "Curse breakers usually have their choice of departments when they're ready for the quiet life. I chose to work in the Security and Transfer Department. That way Fleur and I will still be able to travel a couple of times a year. And Victoire, when she's old enough," he added with a smile. "What about you? How's training going? Do you get to see Tonks much?"

"Er…yeah. She trains the newest recruits with me. It's good—I like it."

They lapsed into silence, each watching their lines. Harry was dozing again when he remembered something he'd wanted to ask. "Say, Bill? Have you heard from Ron lately?"

"Just yesterday, in fact. Why?"

"Does he…does he know about what happened between Ginny and me?"

Bill smiled. "Yes. George filled him in. He doesn't understand why she said no, but George told him not to bug either of you about it. Nervous about his homecoming?"

"Not exactly. I'd just prefer not to have to tell the story over and over…."

The older man nodded. "I understand completely." He was quiet for a moment. "Do you mind me asking…how are you? I know…it was probably not the most fun you'd ever had after…er…the fight."

"I'm fine," Harry said. "Getting better at least. But it wasn't just what happened with Ginny. It was everything—my life."

"Adjusting after the war was difficult for everyone, but I expect it was hardest on you most of all. Quite frankly, I'm surprised you haven't just told everyone to piss off."

Harry laughed at this. "Did you have trouble? After it was all over, I mean."

"Had trouble sleeping. Nightmares. But Fleur and Victoire kept me going."

Nodding, Harry reeled in his line. There was a good sized fish at the end of it. "Number one for the afternoon. For me at least," he added. Bill had already caught about four.

"And the last, I think. We'll both be sunburned if we stay out much longer. Shall we head back?"

"Sure."

* * *

Harry hung the last Quidditch print and went to the window to stop the incessant tapping. The owl soared in as he opened it, and soared back out as soon as it had dropped the letter in front of Harry. It was another interview offer from the Prophet. He set it on the desk and went to start dinner. "Not going out with Angelina tonight, are you George?" he asked.

"Not tonight," George answered, yawning. "She's got tryouts with the Harpies tomorrow. Want help in the kitchen?"

"Hell no," Harry said, laughing. "You just…keep working."

George stuck his tongue out at him. "I'm not that bad at cooking…."

"You nearly burned down the house trying to make noodles."

"Touché."

Harry smiled and started pulling vegetables out of the refrigerator. It may have been because he was going back to work the next day, or because he'd been to see Bill and Fleur…. Whatever the reason, he found he couldn't stop smiling. He felt better than he had in weeks. It was time to start moving on.


	5. A Surprise

**Please Don't Stop the Rain**

"You seem to be in good spirits today," Blaise commented as he set up the table for a round of pool

"I am," Harry agreed. "I'm allowing happy thoughts," he said, echoing Blaise's words from a previous session.

Blaise chuckled. "That's fantastic. May I ask what's got you in such a good mood?"

"I got to see my goddaughter this weekend," Harry said. "And her dad, Bill, told me something that got me thinking…." He paused, trying to decide how to best explain his epiphany. One of the things he admired about Blaise was the man's uncanny ability to know when to let him think. "He told me that his wife and the baby kept him going after the war. And I realized… I kept going for me. No one else. I didn't really have family, per se. I guess I have the Weasleys…. But really I just—lived. So I figured, my life's purpose is over. It's nowhere near as depressing as it sounds. Most people have goals in life—well mine's done. Check marked. So now I can just live for me. Enjoy stuff. It's empowering, if you think about it."

"Empowering as fuck, if you'll pardon my language. But it's also a bit dangerous," he added hesitantly. "I don't want to take away from what you're feeling—"

"But you don't want me to start acting like my life doesn't matter," Harry finished shrewdly. "I'm not saying I'm…better. I still have nightmares about things—Cedric's death usually. And I still… I'm still not comfortable with people. Belonging, as you called it. I prefer being on my own mostly. But I decided to start over. And I'm happy with that decision so far." He hit three balls into one of the pockets.

"Good. I'm glad to hear that."

* * *

Harry tapped the pan with his wand again, but the chicken didn't look any more appetizing. Prodding it one more time, a spark came from his wand, and the pan went up in flames. This wasn't going to work. He felt his eyebrows to make sure they were still there and flipped through the pages of the cookbook, hoping he could turn the disaster into something else. He'd just tell George he meant to do that all along. It wasn't looking like it. With a huff, he closed the book and put a tally mark under George's name on the refrigerator. They'd been keeping score as to who was the better chef since Harry had called the redhead's cooking skills into question. Harry was still in the lead by eight….

A hazy lion came down and sat on the table. George's voice echoed through the kitchen. "Almost done with a new invention. Going to pull an all-nighter with Lee. Get your mind out of the gutter, now!"

Harry laughed as the lion disappeared. Since he wouldn't have to feed anyone else, he could grab something from the pub down the road. Grabbing his coat he exited the house and Disapparated.

* * *

The pub was packed. Harry looked up at one of the many TVs and saw that Manchester United was playing. That explained it. Harry waved at Oswald, the bartender, and mouthed "Some other time." He knew of one other pub—one that a bit off the path, and shouldn't be crowded.

He Apparated into the alley next to it, and smiled up at the sign. The Fainting Goat was one of the seedier places he'd visited as a child. Normally, his aunt and uncle wouldn't have given spots like this a second glance. However, when he and Dudley were nine, Vernon had had a brief stint as a gambler. He'd taken Harry with him to pay off his debts, hoping to be seen as a trustworthy family man, and not wanting to take Dudley in case anything should go wrong. Harry remembered how he'd loved the sign, a goat that fell over every two minutes, and begged his uncle to let him stay out of the smoke filled room. Vernon hadn't been in a particularly obliging mood, and had pulled him inside. He'd struggled to keep sight of his uncle through the cigar haze and burly men. Finally, Vernon had gotten tired of pulling Harry along, and sat him at a table. Harry had never figured out if Vernon had actually paid for the meal, or if the waiter had seen Harry's terrified face and skinny frame and taken pity on him. Whatever the case, the steak and ale pie, peas, and Coke were the best meal Harry could remember having at the time, having just come off punishment.

Harry shook his head, snapping out of his thoughts. He walked inside and chose a table in the corner. A skinny man with crooked teeth came over to him and handed him a tiny menu. "Only got four meals and four drinks. Take your pick."

"I'll have the pie with a…er…" he didn't really have experience with Muggle beer. "What do people normally get."

"I'll bring ya an Old Hooky," the waiter said, taking the menu back.

Harry relaxed in his seat. The Manchester game was on, but no one was really paying attention to it. There were only five people in the pub: Harry, two blokes playing some kind of game with sliding pieces at the bar, and a man and a woman. The last two were at the booth directly across from him. They were deep in a quiet conversation. Harry felt the hairs on his neck stand up. Something was up with them—the man in particular kept looking over. He grasped his wand tightly as the waiter set his drink down. "Cheers," he said quietly. He caught the woman's eye.

Hang on….

It was Tonks. She'd looked away the second their eyes had met, but he knew it was her. She looked different though. Then it dawned on him—she was undercover. Which meant the man she was talking to was either an informant, or….

The last thing he registered, before everything went black, was a wand pointed at him.


	6. An Adjustment

**Please Don't Stop the Rain**

Sunlight streamed into the room. Harry stayed completely still and silent for a moment—listening. All he could hear was the shower running. Opening his eyes very slowly, he quickly surveyed the room. There was a pile of clothes on the other bed, and a stack of white towels on the dresser. His cloak was hanging neatly over the chair. He swung his legs over the bed just as he heard the water stopped running. He darted across the room and searched the pockets for his wand. It wasn't there.

"Damn, I thought you'd still be asleep."

Harry jumped and turned around. His mouth dropped open. He knew, somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, that he should look away. That was impossible. He just stood there—mouth moving wordlessly. And he was pretty sure he was drooling….

Tonks was standing there, dripping wet, and covered with only one of the fluffy white towels from the hotel. She waved her wand, summoning her clothes. "Sorry mate. Be out in a minute."

Harry stood there blinking at the closed bathroom door. "Tonks?"

"Yeah?"

"Where's my wand?"

"Look in the nightstand drawer."

Harry found it tucked between the Bible and the phonebook. He felt a little better that he wasn't completely disarmed now. If only he could get the picture of Tonks out of his mind.

She came out of the bathroom a few minutes later—fully clothed thankfully. "What the hell were you doing at a Muggle pub?" she asked, pulling on her boots.

"Might ask you the same question."

"_I _was interviewing a suspect," Tonks said with a grin. "The Glamour case from two months ago?"

"Yeah, I remember it," Harry said, glad they were talking about work. Anything to keep his mind off the last five minutes. "The wizards were using some kind of dark magic to cast Glamours on victims' houses—"

"And then kept them in their victims' nightmares. It was crazy."

"So was that the creep?"

"No. One of the underlings."

"And I screwed up your case."

"No, just had to make some adjustments." Tonks said, grinning. "He noticed you the minute you came in. I told him you were my boyfriend."

Harry felt his face burning. "Er…you did?"

"My entire ruse was that I had a bad breakup—abusive fucker. I told him you were the charming guy who rescued me, but you didn't want me mixed up in their…er…services. Told him you followed me to make sure I was okay. He let me knock you out. I managed to do it before he got a good look at you."

"So who'd you offer up as the abusive ex?" Harry asked with a grin.

"Menkin," Tonks deadpanned.

Harry laughed. Menkin was the most obnoxious Auror in the department. He had to be in the middle of every investigation—even though he'd specialized in potions smuggling. It figured that the one time Tonks actually let him be a part of the action, she made him the bait. "So what now?"

"Now, you Apparate back to the Ministry, and I finish what I started yesterday when you decided you wanted a snack."

"Do you have backup?"

"Five minutes from the moment I yell for help."

"Five minutes? Any idea what could happen in five minutes?"

"Ohhh…the stories I could tell you…."

"I'd be up for hearing them. Not now though. When's this appointment?"

"Why do I get the feeling you want to come with me?"

"Your backup is five minutes away."

"You're Harry freaking Potter."

"So I'll disguise myself."

Tonks stared at him for a long moment. She opened her mouth to say something just as the phone rang. "Hello?" she said. "Yeah…he's awake. Do you…fine. I'll go get him." She held the phone against the pillow. "He wants to talk to you. Say you're in. Make something up about why."

Harry took the phone from her, glaring. He wasn't good at this. He was used to going in, causing a few explosions, and getting out. None of this undercover stuff. "Alright?" he said into the phone.

"Alright. Thought you were a cop."

"A teacher actually."

"Bullshit. My niece goes to Hogwarts."

"Not there—I'm a private tutor for primary school aged witches and wizards. Parents hire me. I don't work for a school."

"So what's up? Your lady wants my boss's services. You gonna cock it up?"

"No. I'm in. I…I followed her because I saw him following her. Fuck him up—I don't care."

"Brilliant," the man grunted. "So you come too. I don't want any more surprises. She knows where and when."

Harry heard the dial tone and set the phone down. "Looks like I'm definitely going now."

* * *

"Let me get this perfectly straight," Watkins, the head of the Auror department, said. "You're supposed to be out of the field." He nodded at Harry. "But you went with Tonks on a mission, tracked down two extremely dangerous Dark Wizards, and brought them in on your own. Without keeping Kingsley, me, or your backup team in the loop?"

"That's about the measure of it," Tonks said.

"But for the record," Harry said. "Tonks tried to get me to bugger off."

"Much better," Watkins grunted. "And if you couldn't catch the sarcasm in my voice, then I'm going with my gut instinct and suspending you both for a week or two. Just long enough for you to remember not to go pulling heroics."

"Bloody hell," Tonks said, rolling her eyes.

"Hey, you guys hired me to redo all kinds of regulations and crap for this department," Harry said. "How am I going to do that if I stick to the training facility? I'm supposed to be presenting proposals for training _and _procedural revisions in two weeks. Now I've actually been through the procedure of catching someone—instead of just having read about it. I screwed up Tonks's case, and the only way I could fix it was to go with her. And it turned out fine."

Watkins sniffed and sat back. "Fine. Don't do it again. Go."

Harry started to follow her when Watkins called him back. "Yeah?"

The man leaned forward, and for a moment he reminded Harry of Uncle Vernon. This was the "You're About to be Bullied" stance. "I'd like to say something."

It took all of Harry's willpower not to burst out laughing. "What's that?"

"I know you think none of us know what we're doing, just because you took down Voldemort."

Harry willed himself to stay quiet. He'd been expecting this. In fact he was surprised it hadn't happened sooner.

"We do know what we're doing. And just because you're…revamping…this department, doesn't mean you get to do whatever you want. Now, Tonks earned her way into this association. I suggest you do the same."

Harry was quiet for a moment. "How?" he asked finally. "You want me to go to Auror training? Take some tests?"

Watkins laughed, but it was clear that he hadn't expected anything but a swift "Yes, sir."

"You know my story. Hell, when Kingsley dropped me on you, I'm sure you read every unauthorized biography written about me. I can't turn my past off—despite my recent attempts. So if you don't want me here, say so. If you do want me, and this is some power…thing… to show me who's boss—knock it off." He smiled at the older man and left the office.

* * *

Harry woke up suddenly to a loud noise. Grabbing his wand, he pulled on his sweatshirt and peeked out of his room. "George! You scared me. What the hell?"

"She said yes!" George shouted.

"Who? What?" Harry asked, looking at the clock. It was three in the morning.

"Angelina said yes! When I asked her to marry me."

"Oh! Well, congratulations! And you came back at three, why?"

"The Harpies are going to Ireland. She has to get some sleep."

"Right. Well, so do I. Congrats, mate. Goodnight."


	7. A Talk and a Phone Call

_**LbN: Thanks to everyone who's left reviews! Happy reading!**_

"You'll want to try the Quake model…and the Nimbus…." Seamus mumbled, pulling brooms from the shelf. "I was surprised you called. I thought you said you wouldn't want another broom for a while."

"I was coming up here anyway, to the training facility. I have to talk to Ginny."

"Oooh. Right."

"What?" Harry asked warily.

"Have you talked to her since she dumped you?" Seamus asked bluntly.

"No. That's why I came by today."

"I'm not following you."

"Ron and Hermione get home next week. Molly's having a double party for their homecoming and George and Angelina's engagement. Today's going to be awful, but better to get it over with now."

Seamus nodded, and handed him two brooms. "Start with those. Tell me how you like them."

* * *

An hour later, Seamus had somehow talked him into two brooms. They walked out of the training arena and onto the Dublin Destroyers' Quidditch pitch. Hollyhead Harpies players zoomed overhead. One of the players flew down to meet them.

"Hi Angelina," Harry said. "Congratulations."

"Thanks! What's up? Are you here to see the game?"

"Unfortunately, no. I came to see Seamus. He roped me into buying two brooms."

"He's good at that. Best salesman on the island, right?" she said, winking at Seamus.

"Try 'in the world'," Seamus answered.

"I know you guys are training," Harry said. "But do you think I could talk to Ginny? Just for a minute."

Angelina was quiet for a second. "Er…will it…upset her?"

"Don't think so. I'm not…trying to get her back or anything. I just need to talk to her."

"Fine then. One second." She mounted her broom again and took off.

Harry looked up, hoping this was a quick encounter. He held his breath as Ginny flew down to meet him.

"Hi you two," she said, a bit out of breath.

"Afternoon Ginny," Seamus said. "I'll give you a moment." He wandered over to the managers to grill them about the Harpies' broom choices.

"Hey," Harry said. He'd been planning what he'd say for days, but now he couldn't even look at her.

"Hey. How have you been?"

"Okay. You?"

"Okay."

They stood there in silence for a couple of minutes. Finally, Harry said, "I'm glad I decided to get this over with now. Don't want to make George and Angelina's party awkward."

Ginny laughed. "True."

"I don't hate you," Harry said, remembering her letter. "I meant it when I said I understood. I just wanted to tell you that."

"Thanks," Ginny said softly. "I don't want things to be weird between us forever."

"Yeah. I er… I have to get going. Are you bringing a date to the party?"

"Would it bother you?"

"Not if I'm prepared for it."

She smiled at him. "Yes. I'm bringing someone."

"Cool. Well, I'll see you then."

Ginny nodded, mounted her broom, and took off back to practice.

Harry watched her go. "Oi, Seamus? Want to grab a drink before I go?"

* * *

The phone kept ringing. Harry ran around trying to find it, but the ringing seemed to be coming from everywhere. "Aaarrrgh!" he yelled. He regretted the decision to move into a Muggle flat more and more with each ring. Tossing aside his cloak, he found the phone wedged between the cushions of the couch. "Hello?"

"Harry?"

"Hermione?" he nearly yelped. "How are you? Where are you?"

"We're in Portugal. Mum and Dad say hi. How are you?"

"Great. Just got unpacked."

"Unpacked? I thought you and George—"

"I gave him the house. Angelina will be traveling up to the wedding, and I figured she'd want to come home to him on the rare occasions that she can. I moved into a flat closer to the Ministry. It's a weird kind of place—never been in a flat that had an attic. Have to clean it out from the last renter."

"That was good of you, Harry. I'm sure George and Angelina are really grateful. And if you wait until we get there, we'll help you clean out the attic. Ron's bugging me to talk to you. Can't wait to see you!"

"Mate! Are you coming to Mum's in a few days?"

"Of course! I can't wait to see you."

"Yeah. You bringing anyone? You know Ginny's bringing Andrew, right?"

Harry smiled when he heard Hermione yell, "Ron! She may have wanted to tell him!" "I might. Don't know though. Wait…Andrew? Andrew Kirke?"

"Yeah. Er…did you know?"

"I knew she was bringing someone. I talked to her the other day."

"Oh. Good. Well look, I can't wait to see you. I'll bring you a snow globe from Portugal."

"Cheers mate," Harry said, laughing.

"See you!"

Harry punched the off button and put the phone on the table this time. There was a knock at the door. He peeked out of the spy hole and saw a delivery man. "Hi," he said.

"Signature," was all the man said. He pushed the package into Harry's hands and left without another word.

* * *

"Who stole your Butterbeer, mate?" Tonks asked. "You look down."

"Watkins turned down all of my proposals. Every. Single. One." He tossed her the envelope that had been delivered the day before.

"Did Kingsley see these?" Tonks asked.

"Probably not."

"Are you going to ask him?"

"Probably not. If Watkins wants a pissing contest, I'll give him one."

Tonks rolled her eyes and kept reading. "Oh, nice of him…. He didn't even give you pointers for revision."

"It's fine," Harry said. He took the envelope back. "I'll lay low for a while. Let him get over his little tantrum. Hey…."

"Yeah?"

"George and Angelina are having their engagement party on Saturday. Do you want to go? Ron and Hermione will have just gotten back too."

"Sure," she said. "Meet at your place?"

"Yeah…brilliant. I'll see you tomorrow." He started to walk out, but turned when she called him.

"Don't worry about Watkins. His pride is a little wounded right now, but he'll get in line when he figures out that you're not trying to steal his job."

"Even though I am, kind of," Harry said with a grin.

"Exactly!" Tonks chirped. "See you tomorrow."


	8. A Party and a Shock

_**LbN: Thanks Chelseyb1010 for busting me out of my writer's block!**_

Harry grabbed Master Grumbles from the shelf and plopped into the seat opposite Blaise.

"Uh oh," the former Slytherin said. "Bad week?"

"It was an…interesting week," Harry said after a pause.

"Start from the beginning then. How did the party go?"

"Fairly well…."

* * *

"Thanks for inviting me, Harry," Tonks said as they walked up the path to the Burrow. "I haven't been out in ages—not even to something like this."

"No worries," Harry said with a smile. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he had a sneaking suspicion that the night would go wrong somehow. However, he was far too excited at the prospect of seeing Ron and Hermione again to dwell on that.

Arthur was waiting at the door by the time they got there. He looked surprised to see Tonks, but smiled brightly. "Glad you could make it. How are you Tonks?"

"Great," she said, giving him a hug. "Hope it's okay that I'm gate crashing. Harry invited me."

"Perfectly fine. Everyone will be happy to see you. They're all in the kitchen."

The words had barely left his lips when Harry was tackled into a hug from his left. "Hermione!" he gasped.

"We've missed you so much!" she said, still squeezing the life out of him. "Sorry, I suppose you want to breathe…."

"That would be lovely," Harry gasped.

"Hi Tonks!"

"Wotcher Hermione," Tonks said, smiling. "Parents doing okay?"

"They're adjusting surprisingly well, thanks. Everyone's in here. Ron's dying to see you."

The kitchen, which had been abuzz with talk, quieted when Harry and Tonks appeared at the doorway. The chatter started back up after a very brief pause, and Harry gave Tonks a sheepish grin. "I may have forgotten to tell them I was bringing you," he muttered.

"No worries," she whispered. "Molly! How are you?" she asked.

"Hey mate," Ron said, walking over. "You and Tonks?"

"Just thought she might like to see everyone," Harry muttered.

"Uh huh…" Ron said with a grin. "Come on, let's eat."

They filled their plates as Molly fussed over Tonks' new "look".

"Molly, it's the style now," Tonks whined.

"Tonks, dear, I'm sure you can be fashionable without looking like the villain from one of Arthur's graph novels."

"Gra_phic_ novels, Molly," Arthur corrected, kissing her on the forehead.

"Yes that."

"I should rescue her real quick," Harry said.

"Yeah… Looks like Mum isn't going to give up any time soon."

"Hi Mrs. Weasley," he said, offering Tonks a plate of food.

"Harry…"

"I know, I know…. Call you Molly. Old habits and everything."

Molly laughed. "I'll let you lot catch up."

Harry filled his plate and followed Tonks and Ron into the living room. He sat down just as Ginny and Andrew Kirke came down from upstairs. He waved at them—he knew it had to be him to break the tension, and he had to do it right off. "Alright, Ginny? Andrew?"

"Hey Harry," Ginny said.

"Harry," Andrew said, coming forward to shake his hand. "How are you?"

"Not bad. Er…this is Tonks. Tonks, Andrew Kirke. He played Beater on the team with me sixth year."

"Nice to meet you," Tonks said cheerfully.

The room lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

* * *

"So then what?" Blaise asked.

"It was like that for the rest of the night, really. Ron and Hermione told us about their trip. George reenacted his proposal to Angelina. Tonks told some brilliant stories about the recruits. But we always kind of…ran out of conversational steam. And Ginny kept giving me this look. Like she thought I was bluffing by bringing Tonks or something. I'm sure Molly and Arthur were glad to be shot of us at the end of the night. All in all, probably not one of Tonks' better first dates. Don't think I had her swooning exactly."

At this, Blaise laughed. "Swooning? Listen, the only time you want to make a girl pass out is under one particular circumstance…and I hope you weren't doing that in the Weasley's living room. Besides," he continued as Harry laughed, "from everything you've told me about this Tonks character, she's not the type to swoon over anyone. So that was Saturday…. What about the rest of the weekend?"

Harry winced. "Had a bit of a…situation…. Yesterday."

* * *

"Here are the revised proposals," Harry said, dropping the bulging envelope on Watkins' desk. "It's not as big as it looks. I left boxes for your comments."

"Right," Watkins grunted. "Listen, Harry, I need a favor."

Harry scrunched his eyebrows, confused. He sat down and listened, realizing that this was probably something Watkins had struggled with all day. "Yes?"

"Tonks went out on recon this morning. Did she brief you?"

"Yes."

"I got two Patronus messages from her today. The first was the customary "I got here and I'm alive" message. The second one came in five minutes ago. It doesn't make sense."

"What did she say?"

"Something about rescuing you at fifteen past…And there was a bit about figs… I think she was dueling at the time, so she was probably talking in code in case they used Legilimency against her."

"She said…something about rescuing me?" Harry asked, perplexed. "Wait…. What was the bit about figs?"

"Told me to send you to pick up figs."

"It's a name," Harry said. "She's somewhere near my old neighbor's house. Possibly where my family used to live."

"Get going then."

Harry dashed out of the office, mind spinning. He made it to the Ministry's Apparation points and paused. She'd said "Figg's", so that's where he'd go first.

The moment he Apparated, he knew he'd guessed correctly. He was in a tiny closet, squished against Tonks. "Mmmph," he groaned.

"Know it sounds cliché, but we really have to stop meeting like this," she whispered.

"What? Me busting in on you during recon?"

She nodded and held a finger to her lips. "Nab them on three?"

"What the hell?"

"One…two…"

Chaos ensued as Harry and Tonks burst (or, in fact, rolled) from the closet. Harry was glad that they were only outnumbered by two. He took one out and began dueling another who was dressed like a Muggle policeman. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw flashes of green, red and blue as Tonks stunned the other two men. It was over quickly. Harry ran over to Mrs. Figg and undid the body bind curse. "What happened?" he asked.

"Oh, Harry dear. Thank you. They came round asking about a string of burglaries. Said some thieves had hit the house next door, and where the Dursleys used to live, and they wanted to know if I'd seen anything. Well, I told them I hadn't, and then they pulled out wands. I saw Tonks Apparate across the street, and I tried to signal her. They must've known they were being watched, because they hexed me and stayed here. They were trying to figure out what to do next."

"They say what they wanted?" Tonks asked, sending a Patronus.

"No. They were just trying to figure a way out. I think I'll go make some tea."

Tonks and Harry examined the wizards' stolen goods while they waited for Magical Law Enforcement to get there. Harry picked up the badges and hats. "All real. We should have Watkins contact our bloke at Scotland Yard—see if anything's gone missing lately."

"Yeah," Tonks said, picking up an odd looking gun with prongs at the end. "They could just as easily replicated them though. Wonder what this does…."

The next thing Harry registered was considerable pain. "ZaaarAAgh!" he yelled, dropping to his knees.

"Harry!"

* * *

"It's not funny, Blaise!" Harry insisted, trying not to smile. "I've still got burn marks on my bum."

"Yes, well," Blaise said, wiping tears of laughter away. "On that note, we've run out of time for today."

"Right," Harry nodded. "See you on Thursday."


	9. A Real Date

**Please Don't Stop the Rain**

Harry placed his Auror bag in his locker and closed it. Since he wouldn't be on the field for another few months, he didn't have to keep it with him at all times. He'd gotten through the meeting with Kingsley and Watkins, and had asked the director if he could stick strictly to training recruits for the next few months.

* * *

_"What can I do for you, Potter?" Watkins asked jovially. He'd been in a rather upbeat mood since the meeting with Kingsley. The Minister had done a lot to reassure the Head of the Auror Department that Harry was not, in fact, out to get everyone fired. This had made him a lot more open to Harry's suggestions._

_"Just had a question for you. I was wondering if I could stick to the training center for a while. Really, this time," he added, smiling._

_"Is that…a request?" Watkins was still a little wary when the younger man wanted something._

_"Er…yeah. I guess. Is there paperwork I need to—"_

_"No, you're fine telling me. I'll make a note in your file."_

_"Brilliant. Cheers." Harry shook Watkins's hand and left the office._

* * *

He smiled as he walked through the training center. His office was on the other side, next to Tonks's. He sighed. He'd been more or less avoiding her this week. Some of it couldn't be helped, as they had been training different groups, and Harry'd had the meeting… but other times…. It was difficult bouncing back from the party. He was about to go into his office, but stopped. No, this wouldn't do. He liked her, and if he couldn't talk to her normally at work after one awkward encounter, then this wouldn't work. Deciding that failure was not an option (that day), he walked five feet to his left, and knocked on Tonks's door.

"Come in," a severely stressed voice said.

"Hey," Harry said, peeking in. He had to dodge a few of the memos zooming around. "Er…what the hell?"

"It always happens just after acceptance, so I've heard. For about a week, the training leaders are up to their arses in appeals," she pointed to a stack of papers. "Howlers," she indicated a stack of ashes. "And memos."

"Oh. Er…well, this is probably a bad time then. Can I get you anything?"

"No, but you can grab a chair and tell me why you came by," Tonks said, grinning. "I need a break. Your timing's actually perfect."

Harry chuckled and sat down. "I know the party was…er…awkward. Sorry about that."

"No worries. Yeah, it was more awkward than a lot of gatherings I've been to, but it still doesn't top that time I fell asleep in a meeting and woke up to Menkin telling everyone that he fantasized about me having his kids…."

Harry sat horrified at this thought for a moment. "I…don't even know how to respond."

"It was a weird day for many reasons," Tonks told him. "So, what say we have another go at going out?"

"I'd like that. I could get us reservations at Lee's restaurant."

"Sounds brilliant."

Harry smiled, and they lapsed into silence. He wanted to ask her something else…but he didn't know how to bring it up. "Tonks?"

"Are you about to ask if I'm sure about this?" she asked.

"I…how did you know?"

"Because you're Harry freaking Potter, and you get a sort of 'Look' when you've decided on being selfless in any given situation."

Harry laughed. "Okay…you have me there. But seriously…."

"I am _completely_ okay with this. I'd be lying to you if I said I didn't still think about Remus. I do. And this isn't about me getting over him, or anything like that. He left me before the war ended, and he told me to move on. I miss him, but I have to keep living. So yes, Harry, I'm sure that I want to go on a first date retake with you to Lee's fabulous restaurant. I'm looking forward to having a conversation with you that isn't work or war related."

"Is that even possible?" Harry asked, grinning.

"We'll battle through it together…. Damn, said 'battle'. Maybe it is impossible." She laughed.

"Swing by your place at eight tomorrow, then?"

"It's a date."

* * *

Between the party and now, Harry had wondered why in the name of Merlin's swim trunks he'd invited Tonks to the Weasley's. It seemed silly, but he understood now. There were exactly two places he'd ever felt comfortable—safe—and those were Hogwarts and the Burrow. And who doesn't want to be in their comfort zone on a first date. He snorted as he rode the elevator up to Tonks's flat. He was an idiot sometimes….

Tonks was just locking up when he stepped off the elevator. "Great timing," she said.

Harry held the elevator for her. "You…you look amazing," he managed to stammer. Tonks had glammed it up for the night—probably because their venue didn't require family friendly dress.

"Thanks. Clean up nice yourself, there."

"Bill came by and helped," Harry admitted, grinning at the floor. "Apparently Fleur lacked confidence in my ability to dress myself, and threatened to cook nothing but French food for a month if he didn't help me."

Tonks's hair went from blonde to pink as she laughed. "Poor Bill." She gave Harry a searching look, then smiled. "Are you nervous, Potter?" she asked incredulously.

He chuckled. "A bit. Mostly just anxious to make up for the worst first date ever."

"Oh it wasn't the worst," she assured him. "The worst first date I ever went on, the bloke talked about himself the entire time. That's bad enough, but he didn't even have the decency to have an interesting life. And I got food poisoning."

"Okay, yeah…that's a bit worse."

"You made the top ten, but nowhere near the worst," she told him, giving him a playful nudge.

"Fantastic. Shall we?" He offered her his arm as they walked into the cool night air. A second later, the street was empty.

* * *

They walked along the main road after dinner, headed towards the edge of town. There were bright lights ahead that caught Harry's eye.

"It's the yearly carnival. My dad used to bring me when I was little," Tonks told him.

"Did you live around here?"

"From my second birthday to when I went to Hogwarts. That's when my parents moved into the house they have now."

As they walked, Harry looked up at a ride that looked like a baton with seats on both ends. He laughed.

"What?" Tonks asked, smiling.

"Dudley and I went on that ride once," he said. "I was terrified, but you had to go in groups of two and my aunt and uncle didn't want to ride with Dudley. He'd been eating knickerbocker glories all night and hurled over everything…."

"That's disgusting," Tonks said through laughter.

"It was. Somehow it ended up being my fault, but it was so funny I didn't care."

They were at the entrance now. Tonks poked him on the shoulder. "Up for it?"

"You're on."


	10. A Good Time

**Please Don't Stop the Rain**

After a ride on the Spinning Swings of Doom, the Tilt-a-Whirl, the Mighty Twister, and the Screaming Tower, Tonks and Harry decided it was time to take a walk around the rest of the carnival.

"Really, who designed that?" Tonks asked, glaring up at the Screaming Tower. "I don't know what's worse, the fact that they drop you from so high in the air, or the fact that they tell you a fairy tale on the way up so you're not paying attention to how high you are."

"You have to hand it to them though," Harry said. "That was masterful use of the element of surprise."

Tonks conceded this point with a nod and a smile. They watched a small boy toss rings at a sea of glass bottles for a moment. "Have you noticed that all these games are rigged?" she asked under her breath.

"Yeah, I—what are you about to do?" he asked, catching her slightly devious expression.

"I'm about to make some small children very happy."

"I'm pretty sure this is illegal, Tonks," Harry muttered, watching her unnoticeably (to Muggles) shift the soda bottles so the kids playing could actually toss the rings around them.

"Of course it isn't, sweet Harry," Tonks told him with a grin. "It would only be illegal if there was a sign specifically stating 'No Magical Interference', or if I were directing the kids' rings, or if this was for personal gain. There isn't, I'm not, and it isn't. I'm simply leveling the playing field."

Harry grinned. It sounded a bit like an Arthur Weasley loophole, but he wasn't going to complain.

Over the next thirty minutes, the pair of them had "leveled the playing field" of about seven different games. There were a few that you obviously couldn't win, but it seemed that even the kids knew that, so they stayed away from those. Harry smiled over at Tonks, who was obviously having trouble keeping her hair one color. "I think a five year old caught you a bit ago."

"I'm trying, okay?" she said, bouncing giddily as another kid won a gigantic teddy bear.

"Never knew you were so… happy around kids."

"Well I'm just full of surprises," she teased. "Besides, kids love me. I think it's the hair," she said, morphing pink for a moment.

There was a tiny gasp behind them. A little boy, no more than six or seven, was looking up at her, delighted. His parents were arguing a few feet away about whether or not to let him have a gingerbread cookie. He waved and touched his hair.

Tonks smiled and held a finger to her lips.

"I see what you mean," Harry said. He looked around to see if anyone else had noticed. With all of the multicolored lights, and music, and yelling from the rides, no one was really paying attention to them. "Hey, do you want to grab a snack?"

"Sure," Tonks said.

Harry took her hand and they made their way over to one of many booths. He was ready to write this night up as one of the best in his life, but he couldn't shake the feeling that catastrophe would strike if they kept using magic in the middle of a crowd of Muggles.

"This one," Tonks said.

"Yankee Doodle Diner?"

"Er…I may be a little addicted to American food," Tonks admitted.

"Should I even ask?"

"I wish there was a clever story behind it," she said as they stood in the queue. "But there isn't. Kingsley came to check on me one day while I was in hiding, and he brought me a bunch of junk food to cheer me up. I'll never forgive him for introducing me to funnel cakes…."

Harry laughed at this, but something clicked in his mind as well. She'd been in hiding during the war—or at least for part of it. He hadn't known. And though they'd agreed not to talk about the war, he found himself wanting to ask. It was a good thing, then, that they were next in line. Harry was absolutely horrified at some of the creations on the menu ("Who on Earth would want a fried Twinkie?"), so he settled for a root beer float. They managed to find a table and sat picking at their desserts, avoiding one another's gaze.

"You want to know, don't you?" Tonks asked gently.

"Yeah," Harry said, guiltily. The entire evening had been great. Why did everything always come back to the war? "We don't have to talk about it, though. War free zone, right?"

"Right," she said. "I think the park's getting ready to close down. Want to walk back?"

He nodded. "Ready when you are."

* * *

"I had a good time tonight," Tonks said.

They were standing outside of her apartment building. Hardly anyone was out now, but they could hear traffic from a few streets off.

"Me too. We should play fair ground Robin Hood more often," Harry added, smiling.

"That's a Muggle story, isn't it?" Tonks asked.

"Yeah."

"You'll have to explain it to me sometime. Anyway…."

They stood there in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Harry started to laugh. "This is a bit ridiculous," he said.

"A bit?"

"Fine, completely ridiculous. We should both be able to say goodnight without turning into third years again."

She laughed, leaned in, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Right you are. Goodnight."

"Goodnight. See you on Monday." He watched as she entered the building, then turned and walked down the street to a deserted alleyway. He Apparated to his flat and chuckled as he let himself in. Definitely one of the best nights of his life.


	11. A Curious Dream

**Please Don't Stop the Rain**

Harry scrambled around his office collecting his things. He was going to be late for his appointment with Blaise. He nearly collided with another Auror as he bolted out the door. "Ack!"

"Whoa! Sorry about that Potter."

"No worries," Harry panted. "Er…Anwyl, right?"

"That's right. Call me Thomas. I just wanted to let you know that Rhydderch and I are taking the case you and Tonks had."

"With the police impersonators? Have you found anything new?"

"Only that they're only targeting Muggles and Squibs, which isn't a hell of a lot. I'll keep you in the loop, though."

"Thanks, mate."

* * *

"Doing alright, Harry?" Blaise asked. "Tea? Game of billiards? Master Grumbles?"

"Definitely Grumbles," Harry muttered. "It's not…I'm doing okay still. Just…." He trailed off, not knowing how to continue.

Blaise summoned the tea set with a wave of his wand. "Work, leisure or dreams?" he asked, pouring two cups.

"Dreams," Harry whispered. "I don't understand…everything's been fine. Work's…crazy, but good. Tonks and I are…well we haven't killed each other yet, despite the massive amounts of time we've been spending together. So I guess that's good too."

"Have the two of you had your talk yet?"

"Er…talk?" Harry asked, confused.

"About the war," Blaise said.

Harry sighed. "We've kind of…got this unspoken agreement not to ask."

"Hmmm…we'll come back to that point in a bit. Tell me about your dreams."

"It's hard to explain."

"Would you be comfortable showing me?"

"You have a Pensieve?"

"No. I have these," he said, summoning two candles. "Got them on a trip to India, from a friend. These are, for lack of a better description, dream candles. The purple one will put you into a relatively deep sleep, and the red one will play your dream as shadows on the wall. Colorful shadows."

"You're not going to peek at my naughtier fantasies of Tonks, are you?"

"Cross my heart, Potter," Blaise said, grinning. "Besides, you'll most likely only show me what's been on your mind the most—which, hopefully, is the dream that's been giving you problems. Most people react very well to this method, and it's more reliable than a Pensieve."

"How so?"

"Dreams aren't the same as memories, technically. We quite often remember dreams differently from the way we dreamt them. Order changes, details blur, that sort of thing. This allows me to see what you see."

"How in Merlin's name did you learn all of this in a year, Zabini?" Harry asked, astounded.

"Granger may have been top of our class, but I was a damn close second," Blaise said. "On the couch Potter, and close your eyes."

Harry did so, glancing at Blaise awkwardly as he did. "This is a bit odd."

"A bit. Calm down."

A few seconds later, Harry was asleep.

* * *

_Harry stood in front of the Room of Requirement. "I need somewhere to hide something," he thought. He walked through the door that appeared in front of him, wand raised. He carried a book in the other hand. Glancing around at the mountains of random junk that had been hidden there over the years, he walked deeper into the room. There was a noise behind him, and a shadow darted around a corner. "Who's there?" he called. No one answered. There was a stack of trunks just ahead of him and off to the left. He headed toward them and climbed up to the topmost one. _

_The shadow darted past again, just on the edge of his vision. He shot a stunning hex at it. It burned a hole into the couch opposite him. All was quiet. Quickly, he opened the trunk. There were papers, so many papers. Odd diagrams stared up at him. He shuffled to the very bottom of the chest and placed the book inside, covering it with the sheets of parchment. The pictures worried him. Awful depictions of curses he'd never seen before. He grabbed some of them and tucked them into his pocket. He'd ask Hermione and Tonks. _

_The door seemed so much farther away now. Harry broke into a run. The shadow kept up. Harry spun around, wand raised. He made stacks of books fall behind him. The door was closer. _

_A spell caught him in the back._

* * *

Harry jolted up on the couch, pouring sweat. "Bloody hell…."

"That was…intriguing. Here, Potter," Blaise said, handing him a Chocolate Frog.

Harry smiled sadly at the reminder of Remus. "Thanks. So…how cracked am I?"

"Well let's find out," Blaise said cheerfully. "First, is that always where the dream ends?"

"Yeah. I always wake up feeling a tingle in my back, like someone's actually hit me with something."

"What about the shadow? Is it always one? Never an actual person?"

"Never. And yes, always just one."

"What's the book?"

"Hermione's copy of Beedle the Bard," Harry explained. "I have no idea why. And the pictures…I've explained them to Hermione, and she's never heard of them. It's like, whenever I have the dream, I think there's something we've missed. I'm not afraid of Voldemort, or the Death Eaters…it's just that I think there were other things that, I don't know, needed to be addressed. Other things we needed to learn. Something we overlooked."

Blaise sipped his tea quietly as Harry explained. Finally, he sighed. "Potter, I can't tell you what your dream means. But quite frankly, I'd ignore it. Here's the thing, you probably did miss something—and that's not a bad thing. There probably are things about You-Know-Who, and Dumbledore, and the Malfoys, and Sirius, and all the others, that you didn't know. Things that might have helped you, or at least given you some hope. But there's no way you could've known everything. You may have been the Chosen One, but you weren't omnipotent. Really, this may just be guilt."

"What do you mean?"

"If you'd known more, maybe you could've stopped Him sooner. Prevented some of the chaos. You may not have had those specific thoughts, but that's hero guilt for you. You saved everyone. You need to be happy with what you did."

The hourglass gave a final hiss as the last of the sand ran out.

"Time," Harry said, sipping his now cold tea.

"One last thing, Potter…."

"For Merlin's sake, you can call me Harry. I think we're at that point now."

Blaise laughed. "Fine then, Harry. You have to talk to Tonks. It's not doing either of you any good to pretend that you didn't just come through a war. And that's the other thing about your dream."

"What?"

"I think it may just be that you need to hear other peoples' stories. You were doing very specific things during the war, if I understand your accounts correctly. You were separated, but still intimately involved. Start by talking to Longbottom, or someone else who was at Hogwarts. It might make it easier to talk to Tonks."

Harry nodded and checked his watch. "See you next week, then."


	12. An Awareness

_**LbN: Trigger warning for this chapter- heavy violence is mentioned. Nothing too graphic, but just to let you know. **_

Harry took a deep breath and took out his wand. "_Alohamora_." This was ridiculous—he was a full grown man. A full grown wizard to be exact. There was no reason he should be afraid to go into a Muggle attic. Ignoring the feeling that he was about to be eaten, he climbed the stairs.

It wasn't as dark and dreary as he'd expected. Indeed, there was sunlight streaming through the window, illuminating the particles of dust floating through the air. There were a few boxes left by the previous family, all stacked in the corner nearest the window. Other than that, the attic was empty. Harry opened the first box. It was full of books. The second held children's toys. The third held linens. It was strange though. In the first two boxes, everything was stacked neatly—even the toys with odd shapes. The linens, however, were thrown in the box as if the packers had been in a great hurry. "Or hiding something," Harry muttered, Auror senses taking over. He levitated the sheets and pillow cases and, sure enough, found a small memory box at the bottom of the pile. He picked it up. All that was inside were pictures. They seemed to be in chronological order—baby pictures of twin boys, toddlers playing on rocking horses, two small boys playing at the beach. The pictures went up until the boys were eight—it was the last school picture. Harry wondered what happened to them. What made the family leave these pictures behind? He put the box back inside the larger one—on top of the linens this time—and grabbed a yo-yo out of the toy box. With one last look around the attic, he headed back downstairs.

* * *

"Haven't talked to you in ages, Harry," Neville said. "We should do this more often."

"We should. Just maybe with different subject matter?"

Neville laughed. "Sure. You sure you don't want a drink?"

"Water's fine."

"So," Neville said. "Why this?"

"Blaise thinks I'm suffering some sort of hero neglect syndrome."

Neville quirked an eyebrow.

"He thinks I'm feeling subconscious guilt because I didn't know everything about what people went through during the war, and couldn't save everyone. So I'm talking to people…seeing what they went through."

"You want to know about Hogwarts," Neville summed up.

"You saved a lot of people, Neville. I never really got to talk to you, or anyone, about what happened that year."

"It was hard," Neville said, nodding. "Do you want horror stories, or uplifting junk?"

"Both."

"I have to teach a class in an hour and a half." Neville looked around the pub for a moment, blushing when Hannah caught his eye. "How about this…. I'll give you an overview of the horror, and then I'll give you a few memories to take with you. You have a Pensieve right?"

Harry nodded. "Thanks Neville. So…."

"Started with a Death Eater search of the train. They figured out pretty quick that you weren't there. When we got to the school, Snape gave a lecture during the feast. Stuff about reforming the magical lineage or something. To be honest, none of us were really listening until he told us about the changes to the curriculum. You already know about those—Muggle Studies and Dark Arts. It was normal for the other classes. As normal as possible at least. Mostly it was a quieter, darker school year marked by lots of punishment and disappearances."

"What happened to Michael?"

Neville sat back in his chair a bit, glancing around the noisy pub again. "You can't tell anyone else," he said quietly. "When we finally got him to the Room of Requirement, we told everyone he'd been tortured—nothing else. He doesn't want people to know."

"I won't say anything."

"Michael's a pureblood, which meant he was pretty safe. I was a nuisance, so they hated me. Michael kept his head down. Stopped talking to us at the beginning of the year. None of us minded much—we were all doing what we could to survive. Then we found out he was keeping some of the younger kids safe."

"How?"

"His mother was still working at the Ministry. She passed him a few names. He got a couple of kids out by the Honeyduke's cellar before they closed it."

"Is that when they caught him?"

"No," Neville grumbled. "They caught him releasing a first year they'd chained up. The kid managed to get away and make it to the Room, but Michael got caught. They used the Cruciatus curse of course, but it was more than that. Up until then, Michael had been their perfect case of a pureblood taking his place in the world. Every lesson they'd point to him…tell us all to be more like him. Their pride was stung. They shattered his right hand."

Harry flinched. "His wand hand."

Neville gave him a grim smile and shook his head. "That's what they were going for, but Michael's a lefty. For all the attention they gave him, they neglected that little detail. But he played like he couldn't fight back. Whenever we were punished, they'd let us have our wands, just to see what we could do. They took them away when they left, so we couldn't escape. Anyway…." He broke off and looked down at his drink.

"You're kidding," Harry said. "There's more?"

"Have to tell you about his daring escape, don't I? Anyway, they kept him there for three days. Seamus and I tried to get to him, but…it was just too difficult. The day he finally escaped…Amycus raped him."

"WHAT?"

"Shhh! Amycus…yeah. When he left, he forgot to take Michael's wand with him. Michael broke out of the chains, Disillusioned himself, and hobbled all the way to the Room. Bleeding profusely. As of now, I think Seamus, Parvati and I are the only ones who know exactly what happened. Took him a long while to recover, and once he did we made sure the little ones didn't pester him."

Harry's stomach was churning. "Please tell me that was the worst, Neville."

"No one else had that particular experience, so far as I know. But people were beaten, starved, tortured…humiliated. Everyone had to grow up pretty fast."

"What else comes to mind right off?"

"Random acts of vandalism…coordinated defiance…usual teen stuff," Neville said with a grin.

"I should be getting back," Harry said, glancing at his watch.

"I'll have a think on it and get back to you."

"Brilliant, Neville. Thanks."

"No worries…it's kind of good to be able to talk about this. And Harry…don't let Michael know that you know. I mean it."

"Won't tell a soul. Not even Blaise."

"See you, Harry."

Harry watched him go before walking to the fireplace. He Flooed back to his apartment, feeling more constricted than ever. He had been sure that hearing of others' bravery would make him feel…different. But he felt the same as he had before going to see Neville, plus a little nauseous. He had to get out of the house. He sent a Patronus to Tonks before Disapparating.

_**LbN: Leave a review and let me know what you think! Also, there's still time to vote on the next series. Poll is on my profile. Will be back with an update soon! **_


	13. A Memory

**Please Don't Stop the Rain**

"This is the most boring party I've ever been to," Tonks grumbled.

Harry grinned at her. "Look at it this way; at least you don't look like a parade." He scowled down at his very colorful dress robes.

Tonks smirked. "Please…. You're Harry Potter. Parvati and Padma will be mass producing that circus tent by the end of the week."

"And so!" the portly speaker on stage said with gusto, "We go into this new era with high hopes and free spirits, relying on our wits and magic to rebuild…"

"If I had to start a fashion trend, I'd want it to be a good one."

"There's no such thing as a good fashion trend."

The speaker gave a hacking, phlegm cough before continuing. "Our fears dissolved, thanks to the young Mr. Potter—"

At this there was a round of applause. Harry blushed deeply, but managed to smile and nod. He had no idea what the man had been blathering on about.

"And this," the man continued, "is to be a catalyst into the bright, shining future that…"

Anwyl turned a bit in his chair to talk to them. "Mate's been at it for an hour and I still haven't a clue what we're supposed to be listening to."

"Children," Kingsley said in a low rumble, though he was smiling.

Tonks grinned. "I think we should sneak out," she whispered to Harry.

"Do it and you'll be on weekend recruit duty for a month," Kingsley said.

"I'd like to take this time to say," the man on stage said with a deep breath, "that the leadership of this Ministry is…."

"I think that might be a fair trade," Harry mumbled.

* * *

"How does anyone think a two hour long speech is a good idea?" Harry asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I've never been so bored in my life."

"I think it was a punishment," Tonks said. "I think Kingsley hired the most boring, long-winded speaker in the history of the Ministry to punish us for the prank war we had two weeks ago."

"You could be right," Harry said, laughing and taking her hand.

They walked up the street toward the hospital's Apparation point. Tonks snuggled closer to Harry as the wind picked up. The street was mostly deserted, except for a few drunken witches and wizards from the event.

"Did you go on the tour of the new ward in St. Mungo's?" Harry asked her, seeing someone come out of the lobby.

"Going next week," she said. "Is that…is that Draco?"

It seemed the man heard them, because he stopped and turned. It was Draco. "Potter. Tonks," he said. His voice was low and gravely, and as they approached they could see he'd been crying. "Tonks, as you're related to me, I suppose you should know…. Mother is dying."

"What? I'm…I'm sorry, Draco. There's nothing…?"

"Nothing the Healers have found. It's Father's doing, so they probably won't find anything. She wanted Andromeda to know."

"She hasn't heard about—"

"No. And I'm not going to tell her."

Harry looked back and forth between them for a moment. He knew Andromeda had died in the war, but he didn't know how or when. He had a feeling he was missing something. After an uncomfortably long silence, he cleared his thoat. "I never got to thank her properly."

Draco pulled a face—it was probably as close to a smirk as he could manage. "I'm sure she wouldn't want it, Potter. My entire family are a bunch selfish bastards, present company excluded," he added, nodding at Tonks. "It was done out of selfish intentions. She wanted to find me, nothing more, nothing less."

Harry was quiet—he'd never thought of it that way. "Er…right."

"Don't worry about it, Potter," Draco said, sniffing. "It's in the past." He nodded at them, and pulled his hood up. He turned to walk away, but stopped as Tonks called to him.

"Draco….Come over whenever you want, right?"

The younger wizard didn't respond, but stayed very still for a moment before walking away.

* * *

Harry sat back from the Pensieve with a gasp. He'd spent the morning looking through the memories Neville had sent him. Somewhere between the memory of Neville and Seamus charming the statues to say "Voldemort is going down", and the memory of them rescuing a couple of second years, Harry decided that he wasn't above begging his friend to write a book. Everyone knew about Harry, but he was starting to think that Neville should get the spotlight for once.

He poured the last memory, and ducked his head in.

_Neville stood off to the side while Lavender and Seamus comforted a crying girl. "Seamus, a word?"_

_Seamus walked over. "What is it?"_

"_Do we know if her parents have really been taken?"_

"_No idea. Michael's gone quiet. He doesn't know when he'll have any more information."_

_As he and Neville watched the group, Ginny ran into the common room. "Neville! The Carrows are coming for you!"_

_Neville was still for a split second before he grabbed his bag and went tearing out of the common room. He ran through the corridors, pausing every once in a while to listen for people coming. He found no one, until he began to climb the stairs to the seventh floor. _

"_Oi! There he—" _

_Neville didn't let Amycus finish. He threw a spell his way that had the Death Eater tangled in chains. He tossed a few Dungbombs down at the Slytherins who were coming up behind him, and kept running._

_He ran._

_And ran._

_And ran._

_Then he stopped._

_The wall changed into a door, and Neville sped inside. The Room of Requirement was small, with a hammock, a desk, and a dresser. There was an adjoining bathroom. He sat down at the desk, panting and shaking. He took out his DA coin, and tapped it with his wand. The letters RoR burned into it. Once they'd disappeared, he did it again, this time writing "Safe". He went to the bathroom and splashed water on his face. When he came back in, he noticed a portrait of a girl on the wall. She smiled at him, and beckoned for him to follow. The portrait swung open to reveal a passage. Neville paused and stared. Then he climbed in. _

Harry sat back. He picked up his wand and sent a Patronus to Neville. He hoped his stag made a convincing "You need to write a book" argument.


	14. A Small Breakthrough

**Please Don't Stop the Rain**

By October, the skies were steadily pouring water down on them. Harry had started bringing two changes of clothes with him to work, as he hadn't quite mastered the drying charm everyone else was so fond of. He sat at his desk that chilly Halloween morning, contemplating whether or not to ask Kingsley for an office with a fireplace.

"Er…Captain Potter?"

"Morning, Rivas," he said, beckoning the recruit inside. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm…a bit worried about my placement," he admitted. "I love working with the interception group. I just don't know how much Menkin trusts me. It's more than a newbie thing," he added, seeing Harry about to say something. "I know it's normal to tell the new kid 'sit here and don't break anything' but I don't think he's exactly thrilled to have me on the team."

Harry nodded. "I understand. And, frankly, you're right. Menkin doesn't trust anyone. On one hand, it's kept him alive in many situations. On the other…well, anyway…. Just remember, I recommended you for this team for a reason. You're a damn hard worker. You know when to keep your head down, when to ask questions, and how to get things moving. Menkin's never going to take you under his wing, so to speak. He's not me, or Tonks, or Ainsley, or Seekins. Part of becoming an official Auror is letting go of the mentor feeling. You're a part of the team now, and you have to show them that. Just keep working like you did in training. He may not like it, but Menkin can't ignore a team member who's always at the ready. And remember… if something's really bothering you, stand up for yourself. You have the right to ask questions."

Rivas nodded. "Right, thanks. Happy Halloween, Captain."

"You too, Rivas."

Harry smiled as the younger wizard left the office. The new recruits were having more stage fright now that they'd been placed with teams. He didn't have long to dwell on it, though. Rhydderch came running in a second later.

"Potter, there's been another attack."

"You're joking!" Harry said. "It's been quiet a whole month now! I thought this was settling down."

Rhydderch gave a mirthless chuckle. "When you see these pictures, you'll really wish it was settling down. Come on. Tonks is already down there."

They walked down to one of the meeting rooms off the main hall. Watkins, Tonks, Kingsley, and Anwyl were in there already, and the pictures from the last attack were tacked to the peg board.

"Bloody hell…."

"Delightful, isn't it?" Tonks mumbled.

"How…?"

"Disassembled postmortem and reassembled," Kingsley said.

Harry looked at the pictures more closely. Some of them he'd seen before, during the first string of attacks. The bodies were less contorted, but still looked grotesque. "I've seen this before," he muttered.

"What?" Anwyl asked. "Where?"

"I…I remember them from a book, I think. But I don't know which one," he explained, omitting the fact that he'd also seen them in his recurring nightmare. "A book about curses, I think."

"No curse can do this," Kingsley said. "As I said, they had to be—"

"We got it, Kingsley," Rhydderch said.

"What is it, Harry?" Tonks asked.

"Do we have a History of Magic book somewhere close?"

* * *

"Pictures and texts such as these," Tonks read, "can be found in Muggle museums around the world. They show the primitive view Muggles had of wizards and magic. The view that magic could, in fact, do anything. Due to the religious nature of the times these texts were written in, most of the depictions of magic were negative."

"So they're giving Muggles the wrong idea on purpose?" Anwyl asked.

"They would be, except for the fact that your team is hot on their arses," Harry said. "They've been finding the victims before the Muggle police can. If this gets out…."

"It could expose the magical community," Kingsley finished. "Not only that, but it would be exposing us as something we're not. I'll alert the Prime Minister, and our contact at Scotland Yard."

"I want to go back in the field," Harry said.

"Me too," Tonks agreed.

"No," Kingsley said. "We need you here training. Besides, you've both been working nonstop lately. You have time off coming up, and I want you to take it. Anwyl's team will handle it."

* * *

"Glad you made it, Harry," Hermione said, hugging him.

"This place looks great!" Harry said, surveying the over-the-top Halloween decorations. "How did your interview with Kingsley go?"

"Wasn't really an interview," she said, laughing. They walked through hallway to the living room. "He offered me the job on the spot."

"Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures…. Looks like 'spew' has made it big, eh?"

"It's not _spew_, Harry!"

"Harry!" Ron yelled, making his way over.

Harry gave the redhead a hug and asked, "Sports announcer, right?"

"The Prophet blew the surprise, did they?" Ron muttered, but he was smiling.

"That's great, both of you," Harry said, beaming. "We've missed you around here."

"By 'we' you mean 'I', right?" Ron asked.

"Exactly. When is the rest of the family coming?"

"Should be here any minute."

"Where's Tonks tonight?"

"She said she had some stuff to take care of," Harry said. "She's started cleaning out her parents' old house, so I'm guessing it's something to do with that."

"Well, mate, let's get a drink and we can discuss all of the cool free stuff I get from the Prophet merchandise store."

Harry laughed and followed his best friends into the kitchen.

* * *

_**LbN: Bit of a shorter chapter this time, but I'll make up for it next time. The poll for my next series is up on my profile. Right now, Teddy's story is in the lead. As soon as I get a few more votes, I'll post previews of the winners. Once I'm done with Edge of Night and Give Me a Sign, I'll start writing. **_


	15. A Dinner

**Please Don't Stop the Rain**

"Potter," Tonks said, letting him into the apartment with a smirk.

"Don't look so smug," he said. "The test has yet to start." He grinned as he hung his cloak on the hook.

"Ye of little faith. I'll have you know that I'm such an amazing chef that Charlie Weasley requests my cooking when he visits," she told him, with an air of extreme satisfaction. "Think about that!"

Harry laughted. "Should I be jealous that you've had Charlie over for dinner before me?" he joked.

"Considering the fact that I was in his year at school and was one of his best friends? No, you shouldn't. Shall we?"

Today's dinner was the culmination of a weeklong lunch battle over who was the better cook. It had started innocently enough…. Harry had had a day off and had taken lunch to Tonks. It hadn't been much—some lentil and ham soup and pastry. Tonks had repaid the favor the next day with some grilled vegetables and pasta. One of their fellow trainers had made a comment about who was the better cook. That was when all hell had broken loose.

The moment Harry stepped into Tonks's small dining room, however, he was ready to concede defeat just from the decor alone. "Wow." She'd gone all out. Whereas normally they were more than content to eat sitting on the couch and watching god awful television programs, Tonks had taken the time to set the table for two. Complete with fancy dishes, even.

"Before you ask," she said as they sat down, "yes, Hermione helped. But not with the planning or the cooking. She just made sure I didn't light my flat on fire by knocking over the candles."

With a smile, Harry pulled out Tonks's chair for her.

"Always the gentleman," she said.

"Of course."

* * *

"Alright," Harry said. "You win."

"Fantastic," Tonks said. "I'll have a think my prize and get back to you in due course…."

Harry could only describe her grin as "evil". "Should I be worried?"

"Probably."

They tidied up in silence. Harry glanced over as he dried the plates she'd washed. "Say, Tonks?"

"Hmm?"

"Can we…er…can we talk about something?"

"What is it?"

"It's…I want to talk about the war."

Tonks quirked an eyebrow at him. "I thought we—"

"I know we decided not to…. But that was back when we were first starting. We didn't want things to be depressing and awkward. I think it's obvious we fancy each other now, though, and it makes sense to discuss it. It's not like we can go on pretending it didn't happen."

Tonks dried her hands, not making eye contact. Her hair went blue, then red, the green, then white. "Did Blaise put you up to this?"

"You could put it that way, I guess," Harry said with a nervous chuckle. "But I'm not…reporting back to him or anything. He just wants me to get some perspective, I guess."

She nodded, looking at him fully now. "I understand what you're saying Harry. And I agree, I guess. It probably would be good for us to talk it over. I just can't tonight. I can't think about the war. I had a quite vivid reminder yesterday, and I'm…not in the right frame of mind."

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, walking with her into the living room.

She turned on the TV, but put it on mute. "Fine. Draco came by," she explained. "He was… _upset_."

Something in the way she said this made Harry think that "upset" was a gross understatement. He wrapped his arms around her waist as she continued to talk.

"I couldn't get anything coherent out of him for a good while," she said, leaning into Harry a bit. "He was sobbing, but there was something else. He kept trying to talk, and it seemed urgent. I gave him a bit of calming potion and it helped."

"Wait, you just whipped up a calming potion on the spot?"

"I keep vials of it in my Auror kit. I've been on missions where the only way I can sleep afterward is by taking it. Anyway, once he'd had that, he was able to tell me why he'd come. Narcissa was getting worse. A lot worse. Whatever curse Lucius put on her was taking its toll. Draco…he doesn't have anyone right now. He'd come over once before, just for tea, but he didn't…it was like he couldn't relax."

"I imagine it must feel desperately odd, having tea with someone you've been told is the enemy your whole life."

"That's what I thought, so I didn't push him to talk. This time, it was like all that reserve was gone. He needed me to come with him. Couldn't watch his mother die alone."

"Merlin," Harry muttered.

Tonks nodded.

"You went with him, then."

"Yeah. I couldn't let him go through that by himself. But when we got there…."

"Yes?"

"Lucius was there. The guards had brought him to 'pay his last respects'. Bloody scumbag. He was actually enjoying it. Just standing there, watching his wife die. I told Draco not to say anything to him. Put a charm on his ears so he wouldn't be able to hear anything the bastard said to him. It was a good thing, too, because Lucius was…in rare form. Of course, the fact that I was there made it worse."

"So is she…?"

Tonks nodded again. "Passed away in fits about an hour later. Draco stayed with me that night. I was really worried about him. Even took his wand and hid everything sharp from him. The scary part about it is he didn't even fight me on it. He just got into bed and cried. I've never been so relieved that the guest room is right across the hall from mine. Couldn't sleep a wink—I kept getting up to check on him."

"That's…wow…."

"I know. I send him an owl every day. Sometimes he writes back. I can't imagine what he's going through. He doesn't have anyone."

"Not true," Harry said, kissing her shoulder. "He has you now."

* * *

_**LbN: Hope you liked the chapter! Thanks to those of you who voted on the poll. Just waiting on a couple more votes. We have a few ties. Will start posting previews with the chapter after next. **_


	16. A Pause

"Sorry to leave you to your own devices for three weeks," Blaise said as Harry sat down across from him.

"No worries. I stayed out of trouble mostly," Harry told him.

Blaise laughed. "Glad to hear it."

"How was your conference?"

"Great. Intense. Mind boggling at times. I learned a lot. Some of it was…horrifying."

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that You-Know-Who's Horcruxes bit has given people the idea of attaching other things to objects."

"Do I even want to know?"

"Memories, mostly. Also certain emotions that people don't want to deal with. Raises a lot of ethical questions."

"I imagine."

"Anyway, enough of that. We're supposed to be talking about you." He picked up a squishy ball. "I thought we'd try something a bit lighter today. It's called rapid fire trivia. I ask you a question, toss you the ball, and you have to answer. We go back and forth—no subject is off limits, including the war."

"Right, got it. Is the ball necessary?"

"No, but people tend to mull their answers over longer when it's not there. Keeps the ball rolling, so to speak," the former Slytherin added with a grin. "So, favorite food?"

"Molly Weasley's chicken and ham pie," Harry said dreamily. "Favorite Quidditch team?"

"The Appleby Arrows. First time dueling?"

"Technically in second year with Malfoy. Really in fourth year against Voldemort. How did you get away with not taking the Mark?"

"He knew some of us wouldn't want it, and he didn't care. So long as we weren't actively fighting against him. Or helping you, of course. When were you at your lowest?"

"When Hermione was being tortured. When were you at your lowest?"

"When I had to perform the Cruciatus curse on a first year. What gave you hope after it was all over?"

Harry caught the ball, but paused. "I don't know. The fact that it was over. The fact that my friends and I were safe. Safer than usual at least. Best flavor of ice cream at Fortescue's?"

They went on like this for half of the session, ranging in topics from vacation spots to embarrassing moments. At the end of it, even though they had combed the darker recesses of each other's brains, Harry was smiling brightly.

"How do you feel?" Blaise asked.

"Good," Harry said, confused. "I don't get it. I feel…really good. I talked about everything like it was…nothing."

"I didn't let you dwell on any subject for too long. It takes you away from it a bit. Now, we have thirty minutes left. What do you want to talk about?"

"I went to visit my goddaughter and her parents while you were away."

"Sounds like fun."

"It was. Fleur told me I'd make a good father. It got me thinking…."

"Oh Merlin…did you get Tonks pregnant?"

Harry laughed. "Whoa, no! No, that's not where I was going. I was just wondering if she was right. I mean…with everything I've been through, I have no idea how to handle regular kid things. What if I end up being a complete arse?"

"How so?"

"You know, if my son comes home for summer holidays upset because…I don't know, kids are being mean to him or something. All I'll be able to think about is how many times the school had turned against me or how many times I'd almost been killed by the time I was his age."

"The fact that you've thought about it probably means you won't," Blaise said. "But how about we save parenting paranoia until it's actually within the realm of possibility. No parent gets a handbook."

"Right."

Blaise smiled at him. "You've got time to worry about that later. Focus on you for now."

* * *

"I don't understand why she's making me do this today," Ron mumbled, looking down at his list.

"Because," Harry said with a grin, "she knows if she didn't make you do it today, you wouldn't get your Christmas shopping done until the day before."

"I'm offended!" Ron said, placing a hand over his heart. "I never put off Christmas shopping when we were in school!"

"That's because you had to get it done on Hogsmeade weekends. Think of it now…the leisure to do it on your own schedule…."

"Fair point."

They walked down a side street of Diagon Alley, towards The Leaky Cauldron. Harry held the door for Ron, who was carrying a bag from nearly every store. "Want to come back to the flat?" he asked.

"Got a better idea. Let's send these bags home, and head over to Dean's bar. He said drinks were on him for the English Quidditch finals. Seamus might be there as well."

"But won't Hermione see the bags? Aren't some of those for her?"

"This is Hermione we're talking about. You think she's going to peek?"

"Good point."

"Besides, the house is so full of stuff for George and Angelina's wedding that she won't have time to look through these bags."

"How's the wedding planning going?"

"Er…we ran into a slight problem."

"What's that?" Harry asked as they walked to the Apparation point. The pair of them Disapparated.

When they reappeared, Ron continued the story. "Well, I'm sure you've noticed that Mum has a tendency to say what everyone else is thinking?"

"Oh no…."

"We all love Angelina," Ron said. "But it did catch us by surprise. It wasn't just the Yule Ball—she and Fred had gone out a few times. Mum wants them to be happy, but she's worried for George. She wanted to make sure that this wasn't…that he wasn't doing something he'd regret. Unfortunately he didn't exactly appreciate the insinuation that they were falling together in mourning. She's grounded from wedding planning for a few weeks."

"At least it's only a few weeks."

"George just needs to calm down a bit. Angelina understood. Enough about the wedding, though," he said as they walked into the pub. "I'm starting to feel like Hermione and Ginny."

"Well there's nothing like some drunken Quidditch antics to cure that," Harry said with a laugh. "Let's go find Dean and Seamus."

* * *

_**Preview for Teddy Lupin and the Library of Infinity- **_

**"Does your godfather know you're here?"**

**"My godfather?" Teddy asked, quirking an eyebrow. "Why?"**

**"He's very protective of you," Alfie McCleach said. "Always keeping the Prophet away from you. Just wanted to know if we'd be getting an annoyed visit from him."**

**Teddy smiled and took another bite of his sandwich. "Harry knows I'm exploring career options," he said once he'd finished chewing. "I didn't give him details, but he knows I'm meeting with Ministry officials. You have nothing to worry about, Mr. McCleach."**

**McCleach gave a gruff chuckle. "Right, well… I know that Mr. Potter disagrees with many things we do—recruitment of Hogwarts students among the list—just wanted to make sure we wouldn't be receiving any Howlers. Anyway, let's get started." He slid a few papers toward Teddy. "There are two internship options you're… particularly qualified for. One is in the Department of Experimental Spells. It's cozy, a simple ten to five spot. You'll even get a desk. You'll be testing spells by your 18th birthday, son."**

**Teddy nodded, looking over the brochure. "And the other one?"**

**McCleach stared at him for a long moment. "The other is…special. If you accept it, there's no going back. Not for a long time, at least. It's in the Department of Mysteries."**


	17. A Fight

**Please Don't Stop the Rain**

Harry hated shopping. Hated it. He hated the smell of produce, and the bright flourecent lighting. He detested the crowds and couldn't stand the annoying orange, red and yellow color scheme of Sainsbury's. That had been one of the great things about living with George. Since the older man hardly ever cooked, he'd volunteered to do the shopping. This shopping trip couldn't be helped, unfortunately. Tonks had been very clear that she had meals covered, but he was on his own for snacks. Once he was weighed down with crisps, cakes, ice lollies, cider, and juice, he found a deserted alleyway and Disapparated.

* * *

"You staying for three weeks or three months, mate?" Tonks asked with a wink.

"Hey, you told me I was on my own, so I planned accordingly. Besides, I have to get away from all of that health nut stuff you eat…."

"I still say you'll like my organic spinach and parmesan popcorn if you just give it a chance."

"Hmmm…no thanks."

Tonks laughed as she helped him put the food away.

"How many rooms do you have left?"

"Sixteen, plus the attic."

"I'm sorry…sixteen?"

"Black family estate. Former Black family estate, I should say. All of the houses look smaller on the outside than they actually are. Which means the more ostentatious of my relatives had mansions you could get lost in for weeks. This belonged to a great-great half aunt twice removed or some shit. She got burned off the tapestry, and hearing my mom had also defected, left the house to her."

Harry nodded. "So what's the plan?"

"I'm making donations to places," she said. "It's easier and a better cause than selling everything. Clothes are going to St. Mungo's and the War Orphan's Home. I have pick up times set for later this week. Shouldn't be too much work. Other than that," she said, grinning evilly. "I've decided how to collect on our bet from a couple weeks ago."

"Damn, I was hoping you'd forgotten."

"Nope! You're going to help me scrapbook."

"I'm going to help you…what?"

"Scrapbooking."

"Do I have to?"

"I'm surprised you know what it is."

"Aunt Petunia," Harry said by way of explanation.

"Got it. Well, don't worry too much about it. You'll get the boring and slightly embarrassing job of sorting through pictures of me during training."

"This just got a lot more interesting," Harry said, grinning.

* * *

It took them about a week to get everything cleared out. The house looked rather empty afterwards, but Tonks seemed happy about that.

"The minimalist look works for that place," she said as they dropped another few boxes of clothes of at St. Mungo's.

"Where to next?"

"Home. Time to get you into scrapbooking mode."

* * *

Over the next few days, Harry became more and more certain that this whole scrapbooking thing was less about Tonks's determination to get every picture she owned into a memory book, and more about her avoiding having to talk about the war. By Christmas Eve, Harry was slightly peeved at her for trying this, but more mad at himself for falling for it. He couldn't help it. Some of the pictures were just so bizarre.

"Is that Mad-Eye?"

"Yep, before the leg and the eye were replaced."

"Why are you eating a rat in this one?"

"The stealth and tracking final is no joke."

"What the hell are you covered in?"

"You don't want to know, mate."

Harry was about to bring up the war (for what felt like the 80th time) when there was a swooshing noise outside. "Is that the barrier?"

"Must be Draco. I'll get it."

Harry wandered into the library to give them some privacy. Or, at least, the illusion of privacy. He still fully intended to eavesdrop.

"Happy Christmas, Nymphadora. I brought you some cookies."

"Thanks, D!"

"Don't call me D."

"Don't call me Nymphadora."

Harry snorted quietly as he glanced at the book titles. "Household Cleaning with Werewolf Venom?"

"Do you want to come in? We can talk." Tonks said in the other room.

"Oh sure, she talks to him," Harry mumbled. He knew that Malfoy was her family, but still…it was _Malfoy_. He didn't hear whatever Malfoy muttered next, but assumed that the former Slytherin declined the invitation. The door shut a moment later.

"You can come out of hiding, Harry!" Tonks called.

He found her in the kitchen eating a cookie. "No thanks," he said when she held the plate out to him.

"He didn't poison them, don't worry," she said, smirking.

"Did you check, or are you taking his word for it?" Harry muttered.

Tonks quirked an eyebrow at his petulant tone. "You're sulking. What did I do?"

Harry snorted again. "Nothing. I'm just not in a cookie mood."

"Bullshit."

"Okay, fine," he said, looking directly at her. "Have you talked to Draco about what happened during the war?"

"I assume you mean my war experience…."

"Of course that's what I mean!"

"I didn't have to. He already knew most of it. I didn't fill him in on the rest of it though."

"Right."

"Jealousy isn't the greatest color on you, Harry," Tonks said.

"Gee, thanks. It wouldn't be an issue if—"

"For the love of Merlin's crack pipe, Harry!" Tonks yelled. "I don't want to talk about the war!"

"Yeah, starting to get that."

"Then why do you keep bringing it up?"

"Because it happened! I'm trying to get to know you! It's a part of you, and you can't just ignore that, Tonks!"

"Could you please be mature about this, Harry?"

"I can't be Remus, for Merlin's sake!"

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'm not a stoic 38 year old who's cool with bottling absolutely everything up and never speaking about it again."

"Well then allow me to remind you that I'm not a teenage Ginny, who follows your plans without question."

"I don't want you to be Ginny!"

"And I don't want you to be Remus, Harry! In fact, you _not_ being Remus is a rather big drawing point. All I meant was that you should respect the fact that I don't want to talk about this!"

"I just don't get why you're not dealing with it."

"People cope in different ways, Harry. Just because I'm not going to see a therapist twice a week does not mean I'm not dealing with it."

"No therapy, just dysfunctional family chats with Malfoy."

"Oh for—FINE!" she screamed. "You want to know what happened? Here it is. Remus got me pregnant and bolted. Knowing you bloody Gryffindors and your misguided attempts at self sacrifice, it was probably because he thought the baby and I would be better off without him. Or maybe he was afraid the kid would come out furry and howling—I don't know."

Harry just stood open mouthed as Tonks continued to pace and yell.

"In any case, I was alone. There was a Death Eater attack on the place I was staying, and I had to go into hiding. Luckily, Kingsley was with me, because I miscarried shortly after escaping 20 Death Eaters. We went on the run, from safe house to safe house. We stayed in hiding for months, until I got a Patronus from my mom."

It was obvious she was about to start crying. Harry tried to say something, but she silenced him with a hand.

"It said, 'I love you. Your father loves you. Be strong.' I knew something was wrong. So against everything I'd ever been taught, and everything Kingsley tried to tell me, I Apparated here. I found my mom hanging from the rafters in the lounge down the hall. The words 'Blood Traitor' were written on the floor underneath her in blood. Not her blood—my dad's. I found him in their room. He looked like lasagna with teeth."

Harry felt like throwing up. He must've looked like it too, because Tonks said,

"You'd better not hurl until I'm done. You wanted to have this conversation, so listen. It wasn't an ambush, but I was spotted by a Death Eater who must've been keeping watch to see who found my parents first. He got in a lucky shot, but I Disapparated before he could call reinforcements. I was hurt—really hurt. Kingsley was afraid of how much blood I was losing. He stabilized me. I was out of commission for weeks after that. We went back to changing hiding spots as soon as I was strong enough to Apparate. Got a couple of Death Eater visits, and a couple of visits from Fred and George. And then the Battle happened. I got to watch my uncle," she said this word with more malice than Harry had previously thought her capable of, "torture Remus for ages. I was trapped under some debris, hoping it didn't cave in. I couldn't get to him. Finally, a student saw me. I'm lucky it was a student. She got me out, but it was too late for us to help him. I stayed with her for the rest of the fight. She looked so young…."

Harry was definitely feeling woozy now.

"Draco's father was one of the ones who attacked my parents. Pruning the family tree, you see?" She sighed, wiped a few tears away, and looked down at the plate of cookies. "I'm going to bed."

Harry stood, leaning against the counter, and watched her go.

* * *

**_Preview for Dominique Weasley and the Forgotten Tower_**

Dominique ran, tears streaming down his face. He hated being small. Fifteen years old and still the size of a second year—it was incredibly unfair. If he could get to the headmaster's office, or to Professor Rawcliffe's classroom, or anywhere with someone who'd help him, he'd be fine. He could hear them following him—MacAvoy, Laughlin, Wood, Pucey, and Applebee. If Teddy were still here, he'd have hexed them all. But his friend was gone, and any other students who may have helped him were in Hogsmeade for the day. Skipping the trip to study had been the worst idea he'd had in months, since it coincided with the day MacAvoy's thugs had morning detention. Only the morning, though, so their afternoon was free to terrorize Dominique.

Panting, Dominique slid into a side corridor and squeezed into a narrow gap between two walls. He slid back, farther and farther, knowing that sooner or later he'd hit a wall and be trapped. They'd find him, and with his wand broken he couldn't even fight back. His hand brushed past something cold.

It was a doorknob.

He pushed it open and stumbled inside. The passage was small, and filled with cobwebs, but he'd rather face those than MacAvoy's gang. He closed the door behind him, and waited for their footsteps to die away.


	18. Christmas

_**LbN: Short chapter this time! I'll have a longer update up soon. :)**_

Harry landed on the floor with a thump. For a second, he forgot where he was, but then the previous night came rushing back to him. "Eurgh…I'm a prat," he mumbled. Standing up, he stretched and wandered into the kitchen. He set about getting breakfast ready, thinking about their fight. He'd never been good at keeping his mouth shut, but after two months of Tonks dodging any and all questions about the war, he really should have taken the hint.

"Don't pout," Tonks said from the doorway.

Harry jumped, and managed to cover himself in flour. "How do you do that?" he asked.

"Remember when I said I nearly failed stealth and tracking?"

"Yeah?"

"Moody made sure that I didn't."

"Oh." He waved his wand to clean up the spilled flour. "I was making doughnuts."

"Sounds good. I'll cut up some fruit."

They worked in silence for fifteen minutes before neither could take it any longer.

"Listen—"

"Harry—"

Harry chuckled nervously. "Sorry. Er…you first."

"I didn't mean to blow up last night. I was frustrated."

"I shouldn't have pushed. I'm sorry."

"No worries," she said, hugging him. "I could've at least given you a reason for not wanting to talk about it."

"Eh…you shouldn't have to. I'm stubborn and can't pick up a clue. Er…can I ask you one last question? Then I promise I'll drop it."

"Sure."

"I know you said you weren't going to see anyone regularly, but…you have talked to someone about this, right?"

Tonks smiled. "Harry, do you really think Kingsley would have let me back in the field without talking to someone?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again. Merlin, he was thick this week.

"Have you ever read the book Wizards' Wasteland?" Tonks asked.

"No. Hermione probably has."

"You should read it," she said, waving her wand. A book flew in and landed on the counter. "It tracks all of the major wizarding wars, with the exception of the last one, of course. It deals with the major players involved and how they coped afterward. You might find it interesting."

"Thanks."

It was a quiet breakfast. Neither of them really knew how to regroup and keep going. Finally, Harry stood and declared, "Fuck this, it's time for presents!"

* * *

"Charlie Weasley sent us…dragon blankets?" Harry asked. He looked down at his, which was black with a Hungarian Horntail stitched into it.

"Oh, these are great. Tried one out when I was visiting him once. The threads are remnants from blankets that are used to wrap up newborn dragons. They take them and weave them into new blankets, which retain the heat of the baby dragons. They're super snuggly."

Harry wrapped his blanket around him and sure enough, it was nice and warm. "Brilliant!"

"You have a rather large package from Blaise," she said, passing it to him.

"It's a Pensieve," Harry said, ripping through the wrapping. He picked up the note attached to the box.

_And you'd better use it, you stubborn Gryffindor. Happy Christmas. ~BIZ_

"And from me," she said, handing him a small box.

"Thanks. Here's yours."

They unwrapped their respective gifts, looked at them for a split second, and burst into laughter.

"Of course, we would get each other the exact same set of limited edition Quidditch prints," Harry said, laughing.

"We're far too alike."

"Or we just know each other too well."

They spent the rest of the afternoon wrapped up in their blankets, listening to the Wireless and arguing playfully over possible outcomes of the Quidditch season. They seemed to have come to an unspoken agreement that the argument was in the past and not to be brought up. Harry, for one, was perfectly fine with this. As he and Tonks cooked dinner, he privately resolved to read the book she gave him.

* * *

_**Preview for Kellan Dursley and the Griffin's Gate**_

It had been the hottest July he'd ever endured—made hotter by constant arguments with his father, he was sure. Kellan Dursley didn't say a word to his family as he sat down at the breakfast table. He had a feeling it would somehow turn into another explosion. Possibly a literal one, seeing as he was a wizard.

"I may not have liked Harry when I was younger," his father, Dudley, said. "But at least he had the decency to speak when he walked into his family's presence."

"I doubt you spoke back," Kellan snapped.

Dudley dropped his fork and jumped to his feet. Kellan did the same. His younger brother looked like he was about to bolt to avoid the fight….

"ENOUGH!" his mother yelled. "I have had enough of the two of you for a lifetime. Sit down, and finish your breakfasts."

The two men glared at each other for a moment before complying.

"Wonder if Harry knows you still hate magic."

"If you think Harry's so wonderful, you can go live under _his _roof."

Kellan stopped eating at this, stricken. It had never been this bad before. He pushed his plate away and stood up. "Thank you for breakfast, Mum." He ruffled his brother's hair and walked away.

Dudley seemed to realize that he'd crossed a line. "Kellan, son, sit down," he said gently. When Kellan kept walking, he called, "Kellan, I didn't mean…."

Kellan tied the note to his owl's leg and opened the window. After watching the bird soar into the night sky, he sat down at his desk. He took out a piece of parchment, listening hard for anyone in the hallway. He could hear his parents arguing in their room. Quickly, he grabbed a pen and wrote:

_**Mum and Dad,**_

_**I know what you've tried to do. I know you banned me from the Wizarding world all these summers because you want me to be "normal". In another few weeks it won't matter. I'll be seventeen, and allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts. This in mind, I'm leaving. I'll leave you to raise your normal son in peace. If you wish to write me, I'm sure my owl will find you. I love you both. Be good to Nigel.**_

_**~Kellan**_

He opened his door and looked out. As quietly as possible, he walked to his brother's room. The eight year old was already asleep. Kellan set a model dragon on the nightstand, and crept out again. After checking to make sure the letter was visible on his desk, he crawled out of the window and into the night.


	19. A Resignation

_**LbN: Er...sorry? Massive writer's block and a fascination with Glee is a bad combination. But I'm back on track! ...I think... Happy reading!**_

"So have you used your Pensieve yet?" Blaise asked.

"No, but not for the reason you're thinking."

"What reason am I thinking?"

"That I'm being a stubborn Gryffindor," Harry said, smirking.

"Okay, yeah…that was what I was thinking. Why haven't you used it?"

"It's…silly. I just have this…weird fear that I'll get addicted to siphoning my memories out."

"You sure you're not doing this as some sort of self-punishment for your fight with Tonks?"

"…maybe…"

"Get past it, Harry. Forgive yourself. I'm sure Tonks has."

"Not that easy."

"Why?"

"We brought up the past that we've been trying to keep buried. I brought up Remus, and she brought up Ginny. And I think half of why we were so pissed at each other is that we were right."

"About?"

Harry sighed. "There's stuff we're still holding onto."

"Everyone's got baggage. Look for baggage that goes with yours."

"I don't even know how. I don't know anything anymore. I saw some…horrible stuff in the war…but other people saw worse. I was in hiding—hunting."

Blaise leaned forward, folding his hands together. "I'm giving you homework."

"Don't you always…."

"Go on vacation."

"Excuse me?"

"There's a vacation package for Quidditch fans. An ametuer camp of sorts. I think you'd quite like it. Sometimes people even get picked out for the minor leagues."

"This is all just a part of your plan to get me the hell out of the Auror department," Harry said, grinning and taking the pamphlet Blaise handed him.

"Damn straight," Blaise said. "I've said it once, I'll say it again: You are the best thing to happen to that department, but they're the worst thing to happen to you. Take the trip. Get away."

Harry looked down at the flyer in his hand and nodded.

* * *

"You want what?" Watkins asked.

"Er…leave. Not picky if it's paid or not."

"Well, thank Merlin for that," his boss said sarcastically. "Listen, Potter, you've been here for a year. A damn year. And you've been good for the department in some ways, I'm man enough to admit it…. But you're not indispensible. I want to know that you're on board for the long run. You had your Christmas break. It's time to get back to work. Now if you're in, great. But if this is going to be a thing—running off to play every six months—then…that's not going to work for us."

_For you, you mean, _Harry thought. "It's not going to—"

"Potter, just level with me. Are you in, or are you out?"

"Out."

"Excuse me?" Watkins said after a beat.

"I'm out," Harry said calmly. "I've done my bit. You're on your own now. I'm sure you lot can manage. You are, after all, far more experienced than me. I've been doing my best to shut up and fit in, but I've been met with bullying and ultimatums most of the time, and complete indifference the rest of the time. I mean, if Kingsley hadn't stepped in on the whole regulation changes thing, would you have listened to me? Don't—I already know the answer. So I'm done. I don't need this. I don't want this," he said, more to himself. He smiled, and turned to go.

"Potter wait," Watkins said. "I didn't mean it like that. I just—"

"No, it's okay. I'm fine. I'm done." He started to walk down to Tonks' office, but decided against it. He went into the Ministry's Aparation hall and went to Ron and Hermione's house. He knocked on their door and waited.

Ron appeared a second later. "Hey mate. How's it going?"

"How open would Hermione be to you coming with me to a Quidditch camp?" he asked without preamble.

"Completely opposed. If she wouldn't, I would."

"Why? I thought you loved pick-up Quidditch…."

"I do. But…er…come on in, and I'll tell you."

Harry followed him into the living room where Hermione was sitting and….

"Since when do you knit?" Harry asked.

"Since Ron got me pregnant," Hermione said, smiling slightly at her knitting.

Harry's mouth dropped open. "What the…how long have you known?"

"A few months," Ron said with a grin that could light up Manchester for a year. "We wanted to keep it quiet until…well, until we were sure."

"Merlin's tits! Oops, sorry."

"He or she can't hear you yet," Hermione said, laughing. "You've got six more months to adjust."

"Well congratulations," Harry said, hugging her and then Ron. "And yeah, you're officially on daddy-duty," he told the redhead. "I'll bring the kid his first quaffle. Or her first quaffle."

"Sit down, let's catch up," Ron said. "How's work?"

"I quit today."

"Thank Merlin!"

"Finally!"

"Did everyone want me to quit?" he asked.

"Yes. You spent your entire childhood being abused and hunted down. I wouldn't work another day in my life," Hermione said.

"Or at least do something fun."

"I'm on that. Blaise threatened to sign me up and have me kidnapped."

The other two laughed.

"Glad you're having a bit of fun, mate," Ron said. "But when you get back, you're helping me with the nursery."

"Of course."

* * *

Harry hopped into bed, feeling…freer. Maybe Blaise was right. He grabbed Wizards' Wasteland off of the nightstand and flipped through the table of contents. "Malgron the Awful…Vesyris of Glauklem…Grindelwald…." He looked at the clock. Only six. Flipping to page 394, he began to read about Grindelwald's rise to power. He may have left the Auror department, but he couldn't shake off his past that easily. He was still going to read the book, if only for Tonks. And he was still going to help Neville with his research for his book. After a while, his former classmate had decided that a book might be a good idea after all. History therapy for the both of them, then….

It was one in the morning before he put the book down.


	20. A Better Life

**Please Don't Stop the Rain**

Harry laughed as he raced Charity for the Snitch. The Quidditch camp for advanced hobbyists was no joke. They were currently playing on a pitch that was built in the woods. He'd been dodging Bludgers through trees all afternoon. He swerved around the goal post to cut her off and grabbed the Snitch just before she could.

"HA!" he yelled as the whistle blew.

"Yeah, yeah," she said, smirking. "That puts us at a tie. I still have one day left to best you, Potter."

"You can't," he deadpanned. "I'm the magnificent Harry Potter."

She rolled her eyes as they flew back to the ground. "We'll see how magnificent you're feeling when I put Dragon Tooth itching powder in your pajamas tonight."

The camp didn't separate the men and women, so their beds were right next to each other. They'd had a lot of fun that week swapping pictures of family and friends, and arguing over whose girlfriend was more badass. It was a hard debate, between the Auror and the dragon-keeper.

He laughed and landed next to the referee. Handing him the Snitch, he shouldered his broom and tried to ignore the rumbling in his stomach. "I hope dinner's on time tonight."

"Should be," Orson, one to the Beaters, said. "I smell jambalaya."

"How the hell do you smell that from here?" Kari asked.

"My nose is powerful, mate."

"I'm still a bit mad that they won't let us ride our brooms straight to the canteen," Charity said.

"It would be chaos," Harry said as they and the rest of the team trouped up the lawn to one of the large cabins. Sure enough, the overpowering smell of Cajun food reached them as he opened the door to the canteen.

"That's seriously terrifying," Charity commented.

"Terrifying or not, I'm just glad I'm right," Orson said, grinning and grabbing a plate.

As they sat down to eat, Harry felt a small pang of sadness at the fact that this would be their last dinner together. The week had consisted of a ton of drills and exercises, and six games. The players subbed out, so that you played three and helped coach three. It had been great fun, and he'd gotten close to a few of them. Charity, first of all, just because she'd been relentless in her quest to be his friend. Not in the Creevey way, but in that rare "want to get to know you because you seem cool and we should be besties" way. Then there was Orson. Harry hadn't known what to make of him exactly. The older man didn't look like any Quidditch player Harry had ever encountered. He was husky, and slow moving when on the ground. But give the guy a broom and a bat? It was magic, no pun intended. Harry'd nearly fallen off his broom the first time they'd watched the Beaters practice. Orson had knocked a Bludger so hard it had cracked a bit. But beyond his skills as a Quidditch player, he was a generally good guy. He reminded Harry a bit of Fred Weasley….. And then you had Kari. She was nuts. Like, certifiable if provoked and almost as bad when calm. But she had this weird ability to get everyone to like her regardless. He'd never had friends outside of those he knew at Hogwarts, and definitely not ones (other than Ron and Hermione) who didn't care that he was THE HARRY POTTER. It was refreshing to be with them. And he was going to miss them like crazy.

"Oi, Potter, what's up?"

"Huh? Er…nothing. Sorry, what were we talking about?"

"Finnigan's coming tomorrow. Going to buy anything?"

Harry shook his head. "Probably not. Not unless he's got something really impressive. I just bought an antique Fireline off him last month."

The group chatted peacefully through the rest of the meal, then headed back in the fading daylight to their cabin.

* * *

Harry shot up in bed, gasping for breath. He was covered in sweat and shaking all over. He grabbed his glasses off the end table and took a few deep breaths. He pounded his head gently against the headboard, willing the nightmare to go away. He'd been home for about a week, and when the boredom had finally set in was when the nightmares started. Always the same one—Cedric's death.

"I've got to find a job," he muttered to himself. He knew from experience that there was no way he'd get back to sleep anytime soon, so he got up. Grabbing his wand, he made his way to the Quidditch room, intent on sorting some of the pictures from the past week. He stopped though, and stared into the far corner.

The Pensieve stood there, still unused. Hesitating a moment longer, Harry walked toward it. The memory of the night in the graveyard was still fresh in his mind. With a few more deep breaths to steady himself, he touched his wand to his temple and pulled the memory out. It was an odd sensation… a bit like when you first wake up for a particularly excellent nap. He felt drowsy, but still refreshed. And the memory was just there, swirling in the bowl now. If he concentrated, he could bring it to his mind, but it wasn't at the forefront anymore. He was thinking of other things now. Helping Ron and Hermione build the nursery tomorrow…his upcoming coffee meet up with Ginny… the insane pickup lines Charity had told him to use on Tonks….

Harry smiled. He didn't feel the way he'd thought he would—like he was running from his past, or cheating somehow. He felt a bit more relaxed, less anxious. And he'd conquered a fear. He knew now that he could use the Pensieve, and not be overcome with a desire to get rid of every memory he'd ever had. And in that, he felt absolutely triumphant. He felt like he could conquer another fear that night, and ran to grab his cloak.

He was going to Grimmauld Place.

* * *

He hadn't been back since the war. No one had. Kreacher was perfectly content with his position at Hogwarts, and Harry…he couldn't come back. When he'd told Arthur and Molly that he was moving in with George, Arthur had nodded knowingly and patted him on the shoulder.

"Too many memories," he'd said in an understanding voice.

He'd let them all believe that. It was partially true. But more than that, the place just made him feel an overwhelming sense of rage…. It was Sirius's prison. It was the home that was robbed from him when his godfather had to go on the run. It was Sirius's prison on the Order's…well, orders. And it was their prison when they were on the run. It represented at least fifty percent of the disappointment in his life—full of questions that would never be answered for him.

But he put that aside now. He walked upstairs, straight to Sirius's room. It was still a wreck, but he didn't care. He cleaned up, snooping unrepentantly. Straightened papers…picked up clothes…looked through drawers. It was when he was folding Sirius's old Hogwarts ties to put back that he found it.

It was a diary.

He grabbed it, excited, then dropped it as his second year at Hogwarts flashed before his eyes. He picked it up again and sat on the bed with it. The lettering had long since peeled off, but Harry could tell that it had been green and silver. With shaking fingers, he opened to the first page.

_September 1, 1971_

_Diary,_

_I'm not sure why Father got me a diary for my gift. He says it helps to write things down. He told me he loved me for the first time today. It was scary. He says he knows I'll make the Black family proud. But I don't know that I will. I don't feel right around Bella and Cissy and the lot of them. Andromeda says I'll be okay, but… I just don't know. I just want someone to be my friend. _

Harry wiped the page where a few tears had fallen. Sirius had been just as scared as he was. He suddenly felt really tired. He curled up on the bed, not letting go of the diary, and closed his eyes to sleep.


	21. A Day with Friends

**Please Don't Stop the Rain**

Harry woke up freezing and feeling a headache coming on. Sunlight peeked through the gaps in the curtains, highlighting dusty sections of the messy room. He sat up, joints stiff, and looked down at Sirius's journal. For some reason, he wasn't as excited about it as he'd been the night before. It felt wrong now, somehow. He stuck it back in the drawer, resolving to talk to Ron, and maybe Hermione and Blaise, about it.

A hazy terrier floated down from the ceiling. Ron's voice spoke, "Where are you, mate? I've got paint buckets and screwdrivers ready, and Hermione's made some sort of American food called breakfast tacos. I've already had four. Hurry up, or I'm eating yours too."

"Shit," Harry said, remembering his appointment to help build the nursery. He grabbed his wand off the dresser and Disapparated.

* * *

Harry was met at the door by a grimacing redhead. He grinned at his best friend and asked, "What's happened?"

"They're discussing 'them and color palette'. Even though we picked one last week," Ron explained. "It's going to be a long day."

"Tonk and Ginny already here then?"

"Got here about a half hour ago. Speaking of which, why were you late?"

Harry put a hand on his arm to slow him down. He could hear the women in the living room, but he really wanted to discuss it with Ron first. "I was having a good day yesterday. Just feeling better—freer—about stuff, you know?"

"Yeah?"

"I went back to Grimmauld Place."

Ron's eyes went wide. "Really? Are you… you know… okay?"

Harry nodded slowly. "I found Sirius's journal from when he was at school."

"No way!" Ron yelped.

"Shh! I don't want everyone to know just yet."

"Right, sorry. It's just…. Wow. That's… how did we not find it when we were there the last time?"

"We had other things on our mind, didn't we? Planning, then the thing with Kreacher, then the Ministry…. Anyway, I read the first entry last night. Fell asleep there, so I didn't have an alarm."

"And…how was it?"

"I don't know. It's exciting, the idea of getting to know him. But I don't know if he'd want me to keep going."

"Don't know either, mate," Ron said. "I don't think any of us could know. I'll tell you one thing, though—if anyone _was_ going to read it? He'd want it to be you, and _only_ you."

Harry nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. "Let's go see about little Harry Ronald Weasley's nursery."

"Forget it mate," Ron told him with a smirk. "Hermione's already threatening to name him Draco Salazar if we pull that." He laughed at Harry's look of abject horror. "I know, right?"

They reached the living room where Hermione and Ginny were debating whether Weasley Grandchild Number One would be a boy or girl.

"Morning, Harry!" they both chirped.

"Tonks went and got started," Ginny said. "Said, and this is a direct quote, that she was done waiting on you two lazy bastards."

"My girlfriend is such a loving creature," Harry mused.

"I'll be a lot more loving when you get your cute arse in here and help!" the metamorphmagus called.

"And now that we're all thinking about Harry's bum," Ron said, "let's go paint."

Tonks had already put the paint sheets down, taped of edges, and was making long strokes with her wand across the far wall when they got there.

"What was all that complaining for?" Harry asked. "You look like you've got it sorted."

"I'll give you 'sorted' in a minute," she said, kissing him. "Get to work. Plenty of blank space to go around."

They managed to paint the walls a cool mint green in about an hour, and set to work on putting all the furniture together. Every once in a while, Hermione and Ginny would peek in to see how things were coming. However Ron was adamant about keeping Hermione away from the paint fumes, so they kept mostly to the living room.

When they'd finally assembled the crip and the changing table, Ginny came marching in with her 'I am nowhere near fucking around,' face on.

"I didn't do it," Ron and Harry said automatically.

Tonks sniggered.

"Would you like to know what your wife just suggested naming my nephew?" she asked.

"Last I heard it was Draco Salazar," Harry said, grinning.

"Severus Cormac Weasley."

Harry and Ron stood flabbergasted. Tonks's hair turned pink as she laughed.

Hermione appeared in the doorway, grinning. "Mostly I just like watching you lot turn red."

"Just wrong, Hermione…." Ron muttered.

* * *

Tonks left early to go in to the office, but she promised Hermione and Ginny a proper Girls' Night Out soon.

"You're coming over for dinner tomorrow, right?" Harry asked.

"So long as you're the one who's cooking," Tonks said, throwing him a wink.

Harry nodded, and watched her Disapparate before going to help Ginny set the table for lunch.

"How are things with Andrew?" he asked.

"Okay," Ginny said. "Nothing serious yet. Heard you walked out on the Auror Department."

Harry groaned. "That didn't take long to get around."

"Unfortunately not. And the legend has grown already. Rumor has it that you gave Watkins the finger and set his curtains on fire before leaving."

Harry let out a snort of laughter as he poured the drinks. "Wish I had," he said. "It's a damn good idea. How's sports reporting?"

"A mad house, but it's been good. Never guess who I got to interview on Wednesday."

"Who's that?"

"Hortensia Blythe from the Appleby Arrows."

"Pull the other one—it's got bells on."

"Seriously! The interview's coming out in Monday's Daily Prophet. And I have pictures to prove it."

"Merlin, that's brilliant!" Head coaches never give interviews!"

"Tell me about it. Won't believe the ass I had to kiss and the metaphorical dick I had to suck to get it."

"I'd truly prefer to not picture you sucking dick," Ron said, looking ill. He set the tray of chips and peas down on the table.

"And with that lovely image," Hermione said, coming in with sandwiches. "Let's eat."

Ginny told them a bit more about the Arrows' game and her interview as they ate.

"Blythe mentioned that they're looking for a junior assistant coach," she said, with a pointed look at Harry.

"Was that a hint?"

She shrugged. "Just some general information. You've got time on your hands now. So Hermione, you're not really naming the baby after Snape, are you?"

The rest of the table laughed.

"I'd actually prefer that to Malfoy," Ron said. "But could we please stay away from Slytherins? I promise to stop making silly suggestions. It's raising my blood pressure."

"What did you suggest first?" Harry asked.

Hermione gave them all a Look and answered, "Ronald William Charles Percy Frederick George Harry Weasley."

Harry grinned. "Other than my name coming last, I'm all for it!"

* * *

When Harry returned home, he grabbed his mail and turned on the Wireless.

Junk… bills…junk…last paycheck from the Ministry…junk…Quidditch Monthly Swimsuit Edition… and a letter from Neville. Harry smiled. It was always good to hear from Hogwarts' Herbology professor-in-training.

_**Dear Harry,**_

_**I had a meeting with Quill and Diamond Press earlier today. They like the idea for the book! I'm feeling more than slightly overwhelmed. Care to meet for drinks? I'd love to bounce some ideas off of you.**_

_**~N.L.**_

Harry didn't bother with writing a letter. He sent a Patronus to Neville then and there.


	22. An Impasse

**Please Don't Stop the Rain**

Harry sat silently in Blaise's office, staring out the window. Rain was pounding against the glass for the third day straight.

"I'm glad you came to see me, Potter," Blaise said softly.

"You only call me Potter anymore when you're worried about me," Harry mumbled a moment later.

"True. Do you want to talk about this week?"

Harry was perfectly still for a long moment. Finally, he nodded. "I feel…I feel like I'm pushing people away. And I don't know how to stop."

"Ron and Hermione?"

Harry shrugged. "Yeah. A little."

"Why don't you start at the beginning? It might help if you just talk through it."

"Okay," Harry said, wiping his hands on his pants. "It started going to hell on Monday. I met with Neville about the book…."

"_Harry, thanks for coming," Neville said. _

"_No problem. I'm so happy for you, mate! Tell me all about it."_

"_Just a rough idea," Neville told him as Hannah set drinks down in front of them. He smiled at her. _

_Harry grinned. "I saw that," he muttered when she'd walked away. _

"_Saw what?" Neville asked. "Anyway, I'm pretty excited about it. It's going to be a timeline of the year, with stories from students from each of the houses. Er…."_

"_What?" Harry asked, taking a sip of his mead. _

_Neville suddenly looked nervous. "None of the papers have been signed yet. The publishers want to add…. Well, they want all of the Hogwarts stuff to be in relation to what you were doing during the year."_

"_No," Harry whined. "This is supposed to be about you guys."_

"_That's what I told them you'd say," Neville said. "Look, Harry. I get that it's supposed to be about us…but if they pull the offer without it—"_

"_No, you can't let them. My story's been told. I've got so many books about me, my great great great great great great great great grandchildren will still be living off the royalties. Everyone knows what happened—your publishers are just sniffing for details. Details I've already told them they're not getting."_

"_I agree to a point, but they did raise a good point in the meeting."_

"_Which was?"_

"_Because everyone knows your story—what happened to you that year—it would be a good reference point. A way to orient people as to the whole picture."_

_Harry huffed. "I don't want this to be another Harry Potter glory train."_

"_It won't. I promise, I'll keep the focus—"_

"_You will, but will they? If we say, 'Okay, we're letting Harry in' what's to keep them from making me the focal point, with the students' stories as little blips?"_

_Neville was quiet for a moment. "I'll talk to them again. How much do you want to be in this?"_

"_Five percent Potter, and no more. People need to hear the Hogwarts story just as much, if not more, than what Ron and Hermione and I did."_

"_They want it to be fifteen percent."_

"_No, Neville."_

"_Harry—"_

"_No."_

_Neville glowered at him. "And if that means that the Hogwarts story doesn't get told?"_

"_It will."_

_He sighed. _

"We argued about it a little more, but in the end we didn't really decide anything. Thing is, he'd actually need me to write, or dictate, my bits. So…I don't know. He has another meeting with them this coming week."

"Standing up for your privacy is okay, Harry," Blaise said. "I think you're right. I think the publishers expect him to get dirt. But I also think that if he goes back and tells them you said no, they'll still go with the book."

"I hope so," Harry mumbled, biting a nail.

"What else happened?"

He fidgeted in his chair and grabbed Master Grumbles off the end table. "Ginny wrote me…offering to set up a meeting with me and the coach of the Appleby Arrows. I told her I needed to think on it. And…. Well, I went to the Ministry to have lunch with Tonks. Ran into Kingsley while I was there."

"_We should have coffee sometime," Kingsley said as he and Harry walked down the Auror hall. "We can talk about getting you back into the department," he added with a wink._

"_Nice try, Kingsley," Harry said, smiling. "I'm done for good. It's…good to be out, you know?"_

_Kingsley smiled. "As a matter of fact, I do. Still, coffee sometime."_

"_Sure thing, Minister." Harry continued to Tonks's office and knocked. "Hey, Tonks. I brought lunch."_

"_Wotcher," she said, sounding tired. "You've got the best timing in the world. I'm in the middle of a hailstorm of paperwork."_

_Harry moved a couple of stacks of paper to the floor so he could sit on the chair. Carefully, he unwrapped a sandwich and passed it to Tonks. _

"_Thanks," she said._

"_No worries. Saw Kingsley in the hall."_

"_Yeah, he's around loads these days. Ever since you walked out."_

_Her tone was almost casual. Almost._

"_What's that mean?"_

"_It means when you left he started taking a hard look at things. Good, in that it got your changes enacted faster. Bad, in that he's kind of micromanaging. Some of us do know how to do our jobs…."_

"_You sound like Watkins."_

"_You know what I mean. It is an adjustment. Might be easier if you came back."_

"_Nope. No way. I walked for a reason."_

"_Yeah, because you were pissed at your boss."_

"_I was, it's true. But it was more than that."_

"_Really?"_

"_Do you really think I'm that petty?"_

"_I'm not dignifying that with a response."_

_Harry sat there fuming for a second. "I'm not coming back. I finally get it."_

"_Get what?"_

"_What people have been telling me since the end of the war. I may be good at this, I may even enjoy it at times, but I don't _have _to do it anymore. It's liberating, not being bound by some random sense of duty."_

"_Wish I could just shuck mine off like that."_

"_Why are you being like this?" he asked. "Being an Auror is something you chose. Something you've dedicated your life to. I understand you being a little disappointed in me, but don't my feelings count? Is it worth me being miserable for the rest of my life?"_

_Tonks sighed. "No. It's not. You're right…. I'm sorry."_

"_It's okay."_

"_I think we should take a break."_

_Harry stared at her. "Wait…what?"_

"_I've been doing a lot of thinking too. And neither of us is at a place where we should be doing this. The whole relationship thing. We have fun, but…doesn't it feel like we're fighting about seventy percent of the time? And it's neither of our faults, just…."_

"_You're breaking up with me."_

_She looked at him, hair turning blue. "I think, for now, it's for the best."_

_Harry didn't say anything as he rose from the chair and walked out._

The two men sat quietly when Harry was finished telling the story.

"What about Ron and Hermione? You said them too."

"Tonks told Ginny who told Hermione. She and Ron have been owling me these past two days, but… I haven't wanted to talk to anyone."

"What do you think you need?" Blaise asked.

"Time."


	23. A New Beginning

_**LbN: Last chapter! Thank you to everyone who's read, subscribed, favorited, and reviewed! **_

**_Oh we're a little closer now_**

**_In finding what life's all about._**

**_Yeah I know you just can't stand it_**

**_When things don't go you're way._**

**_But we've got no control over what happens anyway._**

* * *

Ron grinned at Hermione.

"Stop looking at me like I'm you're favorite thing in the world," she said, smiling.

"You're my favorite person in the world, so deal with it," he said as she settled next to him on the couch. "How are you feeling? Do you need anything?" he asked, placing a hand on Hermione's large tummy, and grinning when the baby kicked.

"I'm okay for now."

"I quite like the name we picked out," he said as they flipped through channels on the TV. He'd bought it at Hermione's insistence, but he quite liked it. Especially the show Big Brother—though he was never going to admit that to his wife.

"Hey! It's Harry's owl!"

Ron looked up and saw Archimedes tapping at the window. He went to the window and took the note. The owl soared off immediately. "Finally!" Ron yelped. He sat next to Hermione again and showed her the letter. "It's nearly his birthday, and I want to celebrate with him. Ruddy great prat disappears for a month and is just now—"

"Shut up, Ron, and read the note!" Hermione said, leaning over to see it.

"Oi, how am I supposed to shut up and—"

"Oh, give it here," she said, laughing.

_Ron and Hermione,_

_I'm sorry that I worried you these past few weeks. I needed some time to myself, and Blaise agreed. I've been in Germany, at another Quidditch camp. I'm coming back in a few days. I have to get ready for my new job! I took the assistant coaching job with the Arrows. Ginny knew, but please don't be cross with her. I asked her not to tell. I needed this time away to clear my head. Hermione, I hope you're doing okay. Ron, have you two decided on a name yet? Anyway, I promise to take the pair of you out to dinner when I get back. Love you both,_

_Harry_

Hermione sighed. "At least we know he's okay."

"Yeah. I'm still giving the prat a good kick in the shins when he shows his face."

She smiled at him. He was so obviously relieved, she couldn't bring herself to tell him to be nice. "Come on. The baby wants a Cornish pasty from Fulbright's Café."

* * *

Harry finished dusting and blew his nose. Between him, Kreacher, and Winky (who'd come to work for him after the battle), the house was shining. Grimmauld Place had never looked better, and Winky had even figured out a way to get crazy Mrs. Black off the wall.

"Winky, Kreacher?" he called.

Both elves appeared in front of him. He smiled at their "uniforms". Both had looked terrified at the thought of real clothes, so he'd bought extra comfy bath towels from M&S, and made some togas out of them.

"Thank you for all your help," he said, beaming at them. Kreacher bowed low and Winky gave him a small smile. "If you'd like, you can go work at Hogwarts for a bit. Or you can stay here. I have a bit more time at my flat, and then I'll move here for good. It's up to you."

"Kreacher shall go to Hogwarts, if it's all the same to young master," Kreacher croaked.

"Winky would like to stay here," the girl elf said.

"Right. That's fine. I'll see you both in a few months."

The two elves disappeared, and Harry made his way upstairs to Sirius's old room. He'd cleaned it up, but had left it mostly the same. He sat on the bed, bouncing in place for a second. After keeping perpetually busy for the past month, it was odd to have a moment to breathe. "_Accio_ Pensieve!"

The silver basin came spinning into the room, stopping just above the dresser. He hadn't used it since that first night, but he didn't hesitate to dump a few of his heavier memories inside. Then he opened the top drawer and pulled out Sirius's journal. He'd read one more entry, the one right before his, Harry's, parents were killed, and had decided against reading anymore. Maybe Sirius would've been okay with his reading it, but Harry didn't want to know his godfather like this—peering into private thoughts. He'd bought a shadow box in Germany, and he placed the journal inside along with Sirius's recovered wand, his godfather's pocket watch, and one of the letters Sirius had written to him the summer after third year. He slid the glass back into place and levitated the box onto the wall, fixing it there with a permanent sticking charm. "Miss you, Sirius."

He picked up the Pensieve and took it back to his room, debating what to make for dinner. Before he'd even begun debating egg salad versus something dripping with grease from the kebab stand a block away, a hazy Terrier floated down from the ceiling.

"St. Mungo's, hurry!" Ron's voice said. "Hermione's gone into labor early."

Harry looked back and forth for his cloak and wand in a panic. He found his cloak on the hook and his wand in his hand. Making sure the door was locked, he Disapparated.

* * *

"Harry!" George called. "Over here!"

The entire Weasley/Granger group stood in the waiting room. Harry shook Hermione's father's hand, and hugged Molly.

"Ron's in there with Hermione and her mom," she told him.

However, just as she said it, Ron and Mrs. Granger came out.

"What's up, Ron?" Ginny asked. "How's Hermione?"

"Complications," he said, voice thick. "They chucked us out so they can work." He turned to Harry and hugged him. "She's only a few weeks early, but—"

"She's going to be fine," Harry said firmly. "Fine, Ron. She's the strongest out of all of us. Always has been. She's going to be fine."

The redhead took a deep breath and nodded.

They sat, fidgeting, for another hour. Finally, one of the Healers came back out.

"Ron Weasley?"

"Yeah, that's me," Ron said, jumping up.

The Healer smiled. "Hermione's awake. And she said if we don't let you back in, she'd curse our nibbly bits to our legs. I don't think she was kidding."

Ron gave a relieved laugh and pulled Harry into another tight hug. "And the baby?" he asked.

"Tiny, but perfect," the Healer said. "You and Mr. and Mrs. Granger are welcome to see them now."

Harry turned to sit back down, but then nearly choked as Ron grabbed him by the collar and dragged him toward Hermione's room.

"Don't be such a prat," Ron said, grinning. "Let's be honest, you're nearly married to her too."

Harry laughed, seeing the looks on Hermione's parents' faces. "He doesn't mean married in the fun way, don't worry. And I'm not going in yet. You need to meet your tiny goober before anyone else."

Ron went red, and took a deep breath as he nodded and entered the room.

Harry stood just outside the door. He shook hands with the Healers and Junior Healers as they came out of Hermione's room. A sense of calm stole over him as he heard quiet conversation coming from the room. The baby was okay. His best friend was okay. They were going to be okay…everyone.

"Harry!" Mr. Granger said, coming out with Mrs. Granger. "We're going to take pictures to the Weasleys. Hermione and Ron said to send you in."

"Cheers." He gave them both a grin and a hug. Quietly, he opened the door and looked inside, unable to stop smiling.

Hermione smiled back at him and Ron looked like the happiest man alive.

"May I present," he said happily, "Aaron Ronald Weasley."

Harry stood on the opposite side of the bed from Ron and hugged Hermione. "Well done!" he said, unable to think of anything more profound. "Let's have the little goober."

Hermione handed him over with a smile. "Stop calling your godson a goober," she said.

Harry looked up from the baby, mouth falling open.

"Don't look so surprised," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "Like we'd pick anyone else."

Harry's eyes filled with tears as he looked down at the little boy. They were okay.

They'd all be okay.

**_~Fin~_**

**_If it's gonna be a rainy day_**

**_There's nothing we can do to make it change._**

**_We can pray for sunny weather,_**

**_But that won't stop the rain._**

**_Feeling like you got no place to run._**

**_I can be your shelter til it's done._**

**_We can make this last forever,_**

**_So please don't stop the rain._**

**_~James Morrison_**


End file.
